Chrysalis
by twitchy witch
Summary: Formerly titled "Waiting." A speculative future scenario to answer my two favorite mysteries of the Hollows series.
1. Waiting

_I don't usually ship this pairing, but someone once suggested this topic and it's been bumping around my head ever since. It finally crystalized tonight, and I can't sleep, so…_

_This little vignette is completely independent of my other works, and takes place about two decades after A Perfect Blood (which is the latest book out at the time this was written). Inspired by _Entre l'amour et la mort_, by Savior 8801, one of my favorite stories on FFN._

**Waiting**_  
_

There's a children's book I read once, about a magical land with witches and demons and talking animals. It was written long before the Turn revealed that such fantastical creatures lived among us already, even if the animals didn't really talk and were really only animals on full moon nights. And really, I only loved the book because it had talking horses and I was eight. But anyway. There's a beautiful, sarcastic, strong girl telling a story about her life, and she says, "The sun was dark in my eyes." The phrase always stuck with me, with its simple expression of utter, hopeless desolation. It's no wonder she tries to commit suicide, and very fortunate that her horse- who becomes her best friend- talks her out of it.

The sun was dark in my eyes, now.

And I had no Jenks to badger and shame me back to the sunlit lands. Only last year, our faithful friend had left us. A strong man might outlive his spouse, but even Jenks' stalwart heart could not long survive the passing of his last child. No more demon curses for him. He passed as he lived, the world's first crotchety old pixy for all that he still looked eighteen, kvetching all the way until he finally rejoined his beloved Matalina under the bluebells. Thirty seven years- the oldest pixy who'd ever flown the earth.

I retreated once more to my church. Not the church that had hosted our runner business, not after the firebombing that followed the riots that followed the loss of magic. This one, a younger building; but still a church because that's what we'd grown together in. Smaller. Homier.

Holier.

I stepped carefully over the threshold, past the foyer and into the sanctuary, the warmth of the seven layered curses lapping at my _chi_ as they recognized me and accepted me. But now I only felt empty; devoid even of an inkling of pride that they even functioned. So much had been lost, when the ever-after finally folded in on itself and winked out of existence. My eyes avoided the mantel of the fireplace behind the altar, which held the mementos of my greatest loves, many now faded from my life: the photograph of myself and human-sized Jenks, a smiling photo of Kisten on his boat, a shot of my beloved mother arm-in-arm with still-not-sure-how-to-feel-about-my-rockstar father. A photo of Robbie and his ex wife. A photo of my elven goddaughter and her parents, with Trent on her other side caught in a rare moment of honest confusion at being included in my impromptu photo. A picture of David and our pack, gamely supporting my drunk ass after I'd had to get my tattoo redone for the third time. A funny shot of scowling Treble, dangling a grinning Bis by his tail. An ageless, dreaming chrysalis, in its place of honor next to the seventh incarnation of Mr. Fish, swimming in an ornately etched little fishbowl. (I never had gotten around to snapping a photo of my demon teacher — not that he ever showed me his true face.)

No photo of Ivy and I, though – that one was on my nightstand. But she permeated our home. Our entwined scents still clung to our sheets and perfumed the air. My eyes traveled the comfortably fitted room- fitted by Ivy, of course. Left to my own design, I'm sure I'd still be living in mismatched Ikea squalor. My heart clenched at last, the first sign that it retained any function. Deep within my soul, I imagined something shifted; but I was no expert on matters of the soul.

"It's been three days," I told her.

The silence was eloquent. There were none left to ask—none who could be trusted, anyway. Vampires, living or dead, had their own agendas. And in their eyes, I had failed them.

"I can feel you, still here. But…who is it that will walk through that door?"

The memory of Kisten's death sprang unbidden, and I tried to repulse the bitter recollection. Fucking Piscary. If the bastard had allowed Kisten even one more year of life—

But no. Tragic as his death had been, he'd also died honestly as he'd lived, keeping his love for Ivy and me even when it no longer held meaning to his undead mind. His soul hadn't been lost, he said. "God keeps them for us, when we return home." And perhaps we'd have been happy together…but then I'd have missed out on the last fourteen years. Or maybe fate would have thrown Ivy and me together anyway. I wouldn't have traded those years for anything, not even Kisten.

I glanced about the once-church, home to a witch and vampire utterly devoted to each other. I had my doubts that God, if he existed, approved my inadvertent attempts to circumvent his general rules about life and death. But then, there wasn't a lot to go on when it came to living vampires—if you listened to the Fundies, they were all damned the moment they were born. But Ivy's faith was strong, and this church was Unitarian, so maybe I had a chance to do for her what I couldn't do for Kisten, or for my demon mentor.

God, I wished he were here right now. If Jenks couldn't shame me back into reason, Algaliarept certainly would have bullied me out of my funk.

If only I could have done the same for him.

No, I wouldn't go there. Not in my present bleak mood, when all of my past failures could easily rise up to overwhelm me. She'd scent the blood in my psyche, and it'd be all over. I may as well just go outside and open my veins for her right now, saving her the trouble.

"How do I even prepare for this?"

In my memory, Kisten, the newborn vampire, regarded me with distant bemused confusion, wondering why I'd become so important to him, asking in a wondering, bewildered tone why he cared—right after he'd died to save me. For years I'd had nightmares of Ivy, doing the same. Eyes black on silver, newborn and powerful, staring into me and seeing only the blood, the hunger, without all the love we'd so carefully built over the years.

_Remember._

Above all else, Al had taught me about the power of my memory. My _demon_ memory, which could create new realities and breathe life into a dead mindscape. It was my last hope, even if Lee, the only man alive who had a hope of pulling a _tulpa_ from my mind, had flatly refused to help.

_Remember._

But memories of Ivy were now eclipsed by the horror of her first death. The stupid, stupid accident. That damned motorcycle. That idiot human. The sheer chance that allowed me to see the whole thing in surreal dreamy slow motion, leaden feet unable to move, my circle too slow to rise to shield her. The shredded leather, the blood—oh, God, the blood. Holding her face, the only part of her I could reach, her calm face and her wide eyes staring up at me, faith and trust and boundless love. Her fading aura, which had merged so often with mine, was reaching out to me even if she could no longer move her arms. I flung my senses around her, my soul's precious other half, and held on.

Somehow, I did it. As her soul fled, I caught it, fluttering and confused, and I held it.

Now it's _in_ me.

Does she know? Can she feel me? Does she know I'm holding her?

I was in a bottle once. It's not a very pleasant memory, for all its dreamy tranquility and endless cookie-baking. (For one thing, I was hiding from the trauma of nearly burning alive in a frozen ley line; for another, it had Trent, and a kiss I still feel weird about. He'd saved my life…but business is business, and elves are elves, and that's another story for another time.) I remember the confusion, as I slowly healed back to myself, the lassitude, the purposelessness, trapped in a moment stretched out into eternity with no clear beginning or end. It wasn't frightening at the time, but this memory, too, features in my nightmares. It seems that whenever I feel relaxed, truly replete with happiness, I awaken in a panic that I've never actually left that bottle. What if everything that's happened since is just a feverish dream of my dying soul?

I remember dying, too. Those dreams...still aren't as bad as the bottle dreams.

I found myself in our kitchen. It's smaller, because I do my spelling downstairs now, in the secure cellar where there are no gas lines or pipes or other openings to interfere with my circles. Not that there are really any dangers to having an insecure circle, not anymore. Hell, I'm lucky I can even make a circle anymore. Ley lines are hard to come by. I had to carve my own, down there, with the help of Bis. Dear Bis. He slept now, but he'd spent the last two nights curled beside me, giving what little comfort he could.

The scent of lemon mingled with the faint stink of three days of unwashed dishes in the sink, and—hell, I'd just missed trash day, hadn't I? Ivy will be so annoyed—

Oh, God_. Ivy._

I sank into her chair as the torrent of grief, still undiminished, broke me again that day. My fingers crushed her organized papers in my fists, bringing them to my face in a senseless gesture — as if I could suck in her organized essence from her neat handwriting. They turned to ashes in between my fingers. Shocked briefly back to reason, I emptied my _chi_ and employed deep breathing techniques instead.

_Remember._

God, it was hard to claw my way out of this misery, to recall anything besides pain and defeat. What if I couldn't do it? What if I did it wrong, and robbed her of her second life? What if I failed and couldn't even release her into eternity, and she were trapped within me forever, gradually absorbed into me? I shuddered. I'd failed at so many things…I'd failed Kisten, I'd failed Jenks, I'd failed Al…

No. I hadn't failed Jenks. Or Al. Nothing could have saved Al. Perhaps I could have saved the Ever After, given enough time, but Ku'Sox had chosen to cut that time short. Al, too, died the way he lived—in a flamboyant gesture that shook the demon world to its foundations. If he'd just waited a few more hours…

…well, I'd have joined him, and I'd probably have perished in a much messier and less stylish fashion. I might have been able to save his soul, at least. I gave him the option. He'd turned me down. He left the world on his own terms, choosing his own idiot scheme over my harebrained idea of holding onto his soul as demonkind met their final end. And he took all his books with him, the vain, greedy bastard. I'm certain it was because he was far too proud to spend time in my bottle. I'm sure he's already figured out how to work the system down in Hades, already raising hell in Hell, but I wish he'd given me the chance to save him.

(Also, I wish that damned chrysalis would hatch already. The suspense is killing me.)

_Remember._

Sunset was upon me, and I wasn't prepared. But that was hardly unusual; Ivy was always the planner, and I was the seat-of-my-pantser. (Which probably explained my frequently bruised ass. Oh, wait, that was usually Ivy's fault. Hey! From _sparring_. We weren't _that _kind of couple! Er…much.) But how does one prepare for facing the sudden death of the greatest love of one's life? How does one prepare for the return of her shell, freshly healed from her three days of transformation into a soulless undead, knocking on your door, nary a soul in sight? How do you prepare for the body that walks and smells and talks like your love, but doesn't remember_ why_ she loves you? How do you prepare for the fact that the love of your life is now a creature who exists only for one thing: to use you to feel alive again?

Simple.

You _don't_.

I couldn't even ask Ivy's family. They weren't speaking to me. I'd failed their daughter; they'd disowned me. And you don't poke the undead when your vampire scars are suddenly unclaimed again. The newly undead, those who hadn't passed that first thirty year mark, aren't exactly known for their impulse control. They'd never understood our relationship anyway. We'd found our blood balance, finally, thanks to Ivy's indominitable spirit and Al's reassurance that a demon could never be unwillingly bound to a vampire.

And we became lovers, too. It was a slow and gentle progression, from simple comforting touch to gentle caress to intimate embrace. Never blood, never pain, never allowing the lie of vampire pheromones to trigger Ivy's old conditioning. Or mine, for that matter. I had once needed danger and mistrust to engender passion. Who could have thought that I would find even greater love, even higher passions, and even deeper connection with my vampire lover, without mingling blood and sex? No vampire had ever understood us.

We had been so perfect.

It turns out a demon _can_ be willingly bound to a vampire. Even if the bond is only in our hearts. Damned Fundies have made marriage impossible even between species, let alone between two women. The world is not a pleasant place right now, now that witch magic is depleted and the humans are striking back. God knows what the elves are up to, now that they've gone back into hiding.

My hands were trembling, and I jammed them under my thighs as I sat in Ivy's chair. I looked at the mess I'd made of her papers, not seeing it for the mess that was in my own head. I tried to snap out of it, I really did. I had to be ready! It was hard to breathe now. When Bis landed on my shoulder, my start nearly knocked him off, and I hissed as his claws dug into my skin.

"Sorry," he whispered.

My voice wouldn't work, but I stroked his foot reassuringly. He curled his tail around my neck, rumbling with the gargoyle equivalent of distress. We didn't need to rehash my morass of fears; we'd discussed them endlessly over the past two nights.

"It'll be all right," he said, and again my throat was too tight to reply. I reached up and stroked his hot, smooth flank, desperately glad that he was beside me.

I remembered something else from that stupid kid's book. Something about being rewarded for doing good deeds by being given ever harder tasks. Well…I had saved the world. A couple of times, actually. _This _was my reward? Well, I couldn't imagine getting assigned an _even more_ difficult task after this. Pass this one, and perhaps we'd finally get to settle down to living our happily ever after. Maybe open that charm shop, now that I was one of the only witches around who could still make charms.

Yeah, right.

Forcing myself up, I went to the largest window, a twelve-foot high confection of stained glass depicting a Christ with his open arms outstretched. Earlier today I'd dragged a huge multi-headed gorgon of a candleholder before it, and now I lit each of the seven gigantic pillar candles. It came right up to the heart of Jesus, well over my head, and lit up the entire window with a beautiful, welcoming glow. Ivy might not be able to wear her crucifix any longer, and wouldn't be able to cross onto holy ground, but we always lit the crazy medieval thing when the other was out late, and I would light it for her now.

The sun was dark in my eyes, and it was inexorably slipping below the horizon. The next few hours would save or damn us. I tried not to consider my deepest fear of all, because I honestly didn't know what I would do, how far I'd go, how deep I'd sink:

What if she didn't _want_ her soul back?

We shivered together, the last demon and her gargoyle, and waited for our vampire to come home.


	2. Still waiting

_These stories just take root when I'm not looking…thanks for your encouragement! And for those who are still reading my other looooooong story, I'm still working on it! I just needed a short break from it. The muse is fickle and all that._

**Still Waiting**

_BONG….BONG….BONG…._

Bis hissed as I jerked awake, nearly startled out of my skin. I hissed, too, because Bis's little claws had just scored some nasty gouges in my shoulder as he, too, jolted awake.

The huge bell in the belfry was tolling midnight. It was the only hour I'd programmed it to ring, and when it did, it was loud enough to shake the floor. The rich, sonorous, multi-layered tones vibrated through me, and ominous words _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ sprang unbidden to my mind.

I raced to the double doors and threw them open, to reveal…

…nobody.

_For Whom the Bells Aren't Tolling,_ I amended in my head, bewildered.

This time my shaking was just my physiological reaction to my sudden arousal and adrenaline rush, I reassured myself. No wonder I'd fallen asleep, really – I hadn't slept properly since the accident. My eyes flashed up and down our sad little street, with the boarded-up grocery directly across from our church, two vacant lots on either side. Glass glittered under the single undamaged street light. Clouds chased each other urgently across the sky. The waning moon was out, intermittently, and the trees were rustling in the faint summery breeze that smelt of asphalt, garbage, rain, and change. My heart pounded, as all my senses came alive…for all the stillness of the night, I felt on the verge of something huge, profound.

The air fairly crackled with energy and promise. It was a perfect night for working my dark demon soul magic.

There was simply somebody missing. Emphasis on the "body."

Of all the possible scenarios, Ivy simply _not showing up_ was one I'd never considered.

Bis and I gave each other another confused look. Then we both looked down. I groaned and used one of my hard-spun curses to stitch up the damage to skin and cloth alike. The last thing I needed when confronting my newly undead and thus totally unpredictable lover was fresh blood streaming down my shirt.

Assuming she… showed… up…?

I'd spent three days psyching myself up for my last and greatest battle. Hell, I'd spent the last nineteen freaking years preparing for this night, ever since I'd met my partner. No, I'd spent my _entire damned life_ fighting the odds, from my improbable survival of the disease that wiped out more witches than mere humans ever could, to my years as a runner doing my best to wipe myself out with impossible situations and even more impossible last minute escapes. There was nothing – _nothing!_ – that we couldn't survive.

_So why hasn't Ivy shown up?_

I glared at the empty street. "Damn it, Ivy! We had a plan. _I'm_ the flaky one, remember?"

We did have a plan. We had about a dozen plans. We…just hadn't had time to research or implement most of them. The whole soul-sucking thing had been a bit of an improvisation, but neither of us had expected a stupid freak accident, what with all the _other_ things that regularly cropped up trying to kill us. Elves on our doorstep? Plan. HAPA dropping in to take out my infamous demon ass again? Plan. Fundies, Weres, other Undead making power plays…? Plan, plan, plan, damnit!

An idiot college kid texting his girlfriend?

Damned human was lucky I hadn't welded that phone to his ass. I've never been closer to nuking someone in my life, and that included the time Nick tried to take Ivy hostage over a fucking _book_. But Nick hadn't been sobbing his sorry heart out afterward, begging forgiveness of anyone and everyone around him. Not that I'd ever have forgiven the rat, tears or not, but even in the midst of my grief, my heart had gone soft on the kid.

Some demon I'd turned out to be. Al would have given me _such_ a scolding for not at least giving the kid a terrible temporary disease or something.

The common element of every plan was always for me to wait in the church. And Ivy would return to me. And we'd rejoin her body with her soul…however we'd managed to preserve it. I had some idea of how to do it, though it might end up involving demon magic (which Ivy still feared) or that peculiar vampire bond between undead and still-living (which still scared me witless). But Ivy had been crystal clear on one point: I was not to trust her undead shell, and I was not to listen to its wishes.

"I'll be dead," she said. "Heart dead, soul gone. I'll remember love, and hate, and fear. But they won't mean anything, not for long. Nothing will matter, nothing but the blood, and I'll do anything, say anything, _be_ anything in order to feel alive again, even for a moment. But Rachel, you have to understand: _it won't be me_. I'll remember you. I'll remember loving you. But I won't know _how_ to love you anymore. My mind will be dead- the creative spark, the essence, whatever part that can sustain and build on that love? It'll be gone. You can't trust me, and you can't let yourself be swayed by anything I say. Just do what you have to do."

Easy to agree to anything she wanted, lying beside her warm body, still wrapped in her arms and her love. How could she be anywhere close to her first death? We had all the time in the world, particularly now, when I could theoretically live forever. _We_ could be forever.

Now she'd feel cold, her body maintained not by a beating heart, but by a magical virus that continually rebuilt her tissues. Now she'd be frozen in time, a woman in her early forties but still vital and beautiful. Yes, she'd aged, while I'd stayed young. It was always in my power to restore her youth, if she wished, but she'd declined. What did it matter to me what she looked like, anyway? She was my Ivy, and seeing the incredible woman she'd become, scars and all, had never failed to—

An engine revved in the distance. A motorcycle.

I gulped as my heart tried to bust past my esophagus. Surely not. Not after hers had been totaled…?

_Oh, shit. I'm not ready for this! _

What if she didn't want her soul back? Could I force her? Living Ivy had been absolutely clear. All or nothing. She wouldn't give herself the slightest chance that she'd become a monster, spreading Piscary's evil legacy. "After all, everything he did will probably make total sense at that point," she'd said, eyes hard. "I've trained myself for this, made it perfectly clear in my mind: if you can't save my soul, I'm going to walk into the sun, and you have to let me go."

I've done a lot of difficult things in my life – holding my father's hand as he died, letting Al go strike down Ku'Sox alone, talking Jenks back from suicide after his wife's death, then letting him go when it was finally his time. Losing Ivy three days ago had been worse than all of the above combined, and I hadn't technically _lost _her yet. Did I have the willpower to save her against her will?

Did I have the strength to let her go, if I couldn't save her?

"And if I won't do it..." I knew I didn't have the fortitude to force her to walk into the sun, and told her so before she could demand it. She conceded that point without a fight, because we were both crying at that point. "Rachel, you have to leave me. I'll destroy you. I saw how my mother destroyed my father, and she was the most loving woman I knew…before her first death. You have to promise me you won't let me hunt you, hurt you, devour you like all the other undead do to those they once loved. Promise me you'll leave. Otherwise…"

_It won't come to that, I promised myself, _as Bis fluttered his wings and resettled on my shoulder. _I won't have to do it, because after every damned thing we've been through, it's fucking well not going to end like this! I believe in the eleven percent!_

"Who's that?" Bis rumbled.

It wasn't Ivy who roared up the path, letting the tires skid right into the grass and make a mess of my petunias. The figure was smaller, shorter, though her long hair flared as she swung off the vehicle. I knew it couldn't be her, because she had only a shadow of Ivy's grace of movement. And she stalked, rather than glided, up the path, with a purposeful, angry tread.

I stayed in the doorway, suspecting that I knew this woman, and dreading the encounter. Holy ground wouldn't save me._ This_ vamp was still living. And livid.

The young woman threw the helmet aside, sending it bouncing carelessly past the mailbox and into my rosebushes. In her late thirties now, she looked like an unfinished, unsharpened version of Ivy. For all her severe makeup, her emotions still broke her control and ran rampant over her soft features. Her mascara was running and she looked like she hadn't slept for three days, either. She didn't have Ivy's iron core. She hadn't had to develop one. Lucky her.

"Erika," I said. I was too surprised to formulate the different questions swimming around my head into coherent sentences.

"You," she said, her little canines poking out from under her lips. "What did you do to her, you… _demon_?"

I opened my mouth to reply, though I had no idea what I'd have said. My brain was too busy focusing on the gun she'd drawn out of her leather jacket and pointed at me with a shaking hand. Bis hissed again, spreading leathery stone wings and lashing his serpentine tail in a warning display.

He might have been a cat, for all the attention Erika paid him. "You did something to her! She trusted you, and you did this to her! How could you? She t_rusted_ you!"

"I didn't— damn it, Bis, don't!" _Oh, hell._ "Rhombus!"

In a slow-motion fiasco, I watched as Bis flew at her, intending to knock or grab the gun from her. I could tell from her face that the two shots she fired were unintentional. One chipped a bit of stone from Bis's shoulder, and the other rebounded with a _ka-ping!_ off of my hastily erected circle.

"_Dormi!"_ I commanded her, as I dropped the circle. The curse struck her, and Erika fell to the earth like her strings had been cut. Bis and I stared down at her in sad bewilderment, and my heart began to race with dread as the import of Erika's words sank in.

What _had_ I done?

I had no idea.

"We'd better get her inside," I said. "_Virem __me concede,"_ I added, letting my ley line fill my muscles with a temporary burst of energy. I scooped up the unconscious woman, hardly even noticing the additional layer of smut as it settled over my soul.

And _Fortitudinem me concede_, too, I added in my head, but there wasn't any demon curse out there to add to one's internal valor. My own courage would have to suffice.

I hadn't seen Erika for years- she'd moved to Paris to study design, and had stayed there as an intern for a large firm. The internship stretched out into a real apprenticeship, and by all accounts she was very happy. Her family feared she'd fallen under the influence of one of the undead who populated Europe, but there was little they could do, and Erika was an adult. At least she was out from under Cormel's thumb. Cormel was hitting his thirty-year trial later than usual—his position had granted him fame enough to provide him willing victims for years beyond the usual, but even those were drying up now as his darker side made itself known. I'd love to say that only the threat and promise of my intervention had kept Ivy safe from his machinations, but the truth was that Cormel was still hoping I'd be able to save _him_, too. Even though I'd explained that his own soul had gone kaput years ago; nothing I could do about it _now_.

Now Erika was passed out on my couch. Bis crawled over onto the opposite arm of the sofa, gazing down at her. He'd taken her gun and was using it as a chew toy, probably more to make a point than because it tasted good. Then again, he ate the darnedest things these days. "You all right?" I asked, trying to take a look at the damage.

Bis waved a wing at me dismissively. "Fine," he said around a mouthful of bullet, glancing at his shoulder. He was living stone and there had been no blood. It was just a chip, the stone beneath looking a little fresher and lighter than his weathered exterior. "It looks kinda cool, actually. The chicks on the Basilica will be impressed."

I snorted. "Dude, you live with a demon. Gargoyle chicks with any sense should be staying far away from you."

Bis flexed. He was nearing fifty now, hitting his prime and ready for a mate. "Are you kidding? You of all people know that chicks dig the bad boy!"

I had to shake my head…he did have a point, and even now, a hot leather-clad vamp on a bike could still make my pulse race for a moment. (Sure, I was happily monogamous, but that didn't mean I couldn't _look_.) "Sure…but then they settle down with the nice boy next door." I glanced down at Erika. "Or the nice girl, in my case."

Now it was Bis's turn to snort. "And she's still kidding herself after all these years," he told the ceiling philosophically. "Ivy's never been the nice, safe girl, and you know it." He snapped his wings shut, glaring down at Erika again. "Come on, you scaredy cat. Wake her up and find out what the hell's going on!"

My heart lurched again, because once again Bis had called it. I was terrified to wake Erika up and find out how my messing with nature had fucked things up,_ again_. But he was right, I had to know. And then I'd fix it. "_Excito_," I commanded, feeling the sleep-curse unwind itself like a coil of rope falling away.

Erika bolted awake, cringing a little. Demon curses were like that – she was still feeling the adrenaline rush of nearly killing her sister's lover, and now she was wondering how the hell she'd gotten onto a couch with Bis and I staring down at her with concern. "Shit!"

Yeah, that about summed up the situation. "We're all right. Did you really come here to shoot me, Erika?" I wasn't a bit surprised when her face crumpled. She curled into a ball and sobbed, and I let her, even though the suspense was killing us both.

"No, no," she said. "I'm sorry…I was going to make you come with me. They said you wouldn't leave your church, so…your gargoyle, he just scared me, I'm sorry! Are you OK?"

"We're fine," I assured her, relieved rather than angry. Having Ivy's undead parents, not to mention Cormel and his entire camarilla, pissed at me was bad enough. But I'd always liked Erika, and it hurt to think that she'd have turned on me so completely as to try to murder me. "Erika, what's wrong with Ivy?"

To her credit, she didn't keep me in suspense any longer. "It's been three days, and she still hasn't woken from her coma!"

I tried not to let panic cloud my thinking. "But she's healed? She finished the transformation to undeadhood?"

"Yeah? I guess? She looks fine?" Erika was still crying. "But she won't wake up! Time's running out!"

"Does this ever happen to the undead?" I asked, knowing the answer but hoping Erika would contradict it.

"Yeah. If they aren't up after three days…they never awaken. If you don't fix what you did by sunrise—" She sucked in a breath as she realized she was still busy accusing the only one who might be able to help.

But I was wincing, because she was right. I _had_ done something. I mean, it happened, occasionally. Sometimes the transformation was nearly instantaneous, as was the case with Kisten, and sometimes it took the entire three days. And sometimes a living vampire's death was too traumatic, or something just went weird, and the transformation didn't work despite the best efforts of the vamp virus. But I'd never heard of any undead surviving to rise after three days. And that Ivy was failing to rise now? No, it couldn't be coincidence. It had to be because of me. "Where is she?" I asked.

Erika blew out a relieved breath. "Cormel's place," she said softly.

I let the silence stretch before answering hopelessly, "Any chance of him bringing her here?"

My heart sank and bile rose in my throat as she dropped her eyes and shook her head. "And Cormel didn't think to send anyone to fetch me?" I asked, feeling the first spark of anger rising in me.

"They're on their way," she said. "They'll be here any minute." She lifted her tear-streaked face and fixed me with a pleading look. "You _did_…do something, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I did something."

Erika's face was eloquent with relief. "You can bring her back?"

I closed my eyes. Not only would I have to confront Ivy without the safety net of my holy ground at my back and a lifetime of memories for us to latch onto, I'd have to go right into the lair of the dragon himself. And yeah, being surrounded by vampires, living and undead, was not going to be conducive to my survival even if I did fend off undead Ivy and reintegrate her living soul with her undead body. The emotions that would be flowing around would act like lighter fluid on flames. Not to mention, what would they do to me if I failed?

_No pressure, Rachel!_

One thing I knew, though. I wasn't going to go at the point of a gun. I'd show up on my own terms. I rose to my feet, feeling the adrenaline and dread pulsing through me transform into that heady pre-run rush. I could do this. I _would_ do this. I wasn't alone. I had Bis. I had Erika.

And Ivy was still with me.

Anyone got between me and the rest of her? Living or dead, I'd beat them to death with a chair leg.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm going to bring her back. But first…I'm going to bust her out of Cormel's place, because there's no fucking way I'm going to try delicate soul magic with a hoard of undead breathing down my neck." I grinned down at her, and she flinched at the glint in my eyes. "And _you're_ going to help me do it."


	3. No More Sitting Around!

**No More Sitting Around**

Despite my ominous words, I had no intention of dragging Erika into this mess, other than perhaps doing the demon equivalent of conking her over the head and stealing her bike, but I was just irked enough about being shot at that I let her stew as I made my hasty preparations. To her credit, she didn't protest, just sat there wringing her hands and looking around like a lost child.

"I didn't come here to shoot you," she said again.

I had a stash of amulets set aside for just such an emergency, and I grabbed them now and primed all of them with my blood. They were cursed, not simply charmed, which meant they weren't yet invoked. I'd lost my distaste for collecting smut years ago, when I'd proven to myself time and again that what I could accomplish with a curse was worth the darkness on my soul. It meant I could accomplish the same things as white and black charms, but the price was paid by myself rather than by using sick shit like spleens from still-living animals and blood from babies.

"I know," I reassured her. In fact, far from being angry at _her_, I was grateful she'd made her impetuous decision to stop by early. Her information had snapped me out of my funk and back into the mode in which I functioned best: under pressure and righteously pissed off.

"It's just that Rynn was gathering a whole group of living and dead vamps to come here to get you, and the only reason I beat them over here is that he was sending them to go pick up someone else first, and I know how you work, you'd try to fight them off and they'd either kill you or you'd kill them, and my cousin's with them, and—"

"Woah, back up," I said. "Who are they picking up?"

She spread her hands apologetically. "I'm not sure, it wasn't a name I'd heard before. Salad…Salazar?

I froze in the act of stuffing a half liter-jug of holy water into my backpack. "Saladin?" I asked warily.

"Yeah. You know him?"

"I know him." I frowned. "I didn't know he was working for Cormel."

"I got the impression that he doesn't, not really, like maybe Rynn has something on the guy that would make him cooperate."

I snorted. "I'll bet. And of course he needs Lee, if he's coming to kidnap me. If his living vamp goons don't work, he'll need someone to break the sanctity of the church—" I blinked. Oh, hell. How could I get Ivy back here if the church was still sanctified? We'd need to hole up in here, probably, and I couldn't do it if I couldn't even get her body through the door. Oh, well, I'd been counting on that extra layer of protection, but I had plenty of other curses to keep intruders busy.

"Is something wrong?" Erika was looking fidgety, staring at the door.

I sighed and pulled out the small length of enchanted cloth from its resting place in a drawer in the altar. I ran my fingers over the embroidery, one of only two demons who could have done so. Not even Newt could tread holy ground. Lucky me, I now knew the curse she'd used to break the sanctity. "It's a sad day when you have to blaspheme your own church to save the woman you love," I said, trying to keep it light.

"Huh? It's a curse? I thought churches were just…you know…holy."

"No, it's a charm," I said thoughtfully. "And it's centered on this cloth, but keyed to the grounds. It's kind of neat, actually. Like a permanent anti-undead/anti-demon protection bubble. But the cloth can't leave the bubble. Physically impossible. No, I'm afraid I have to break the spell myself. _Atrocitas._" It took more energy than I thought to power the curse, until I grunted with effort at the amount I had to channel. But something stretched taut, trembled, then finally snapped. The cloth turned black under my fingers. The air filled with the stink of burnt amber. And the huge bells above us rang with a distorted, eerie resonance, as if the church itself was protesting my action.

Erika coughed. "Can you fix it again?" she asked, noting my wince.

"Not myself. But even if I fix Ivy, it's a fifty-fifty chance that she won't be able to enter holy ground anyway. And if I can't fix her…well, I'll be leaving the city with my tail between my legs. So…I guess it doesn't really matter." It still felt wrong, and irrevocable, and I'd been depending on having that safety blanket. My hands were shaking as I tossed the befouled cloth into a trash can. And if Ivy could walk on hallowed ground after her transformation,_ she_ had the money to resanctify the place. "How much time do we have?"

Erika shrugged again. "I've been here…fifteen minutes? Does this Lee guy live in the city?"

I nodded. Last I knew, he did. We weren't exactly best buds, but he was a big-name guy who made headlines. I kept tabs on him, because after all he was the only other demon still alive. His wife had died a few years back, and I suspected he was back to his shady shenanigans again. He was also older than me and unquestionably a master manipulator of ley lines. And after spending time as Al's familiar, I suspected he knew how to spindle and had picked up dozens of useful curses. Yeah, he'd helped me out once, but that was nearly two decades ago. And I knew Lee—he was real big on a "Nothing personal, just business," approach to morality. Undead vampires I could (probably) handle, but throwing Lee into the mix had me really worried.

"Then maybe another fifteen minutes?" she said. "So you still haven't told me what your plan is."

I shouldered my bag and glanced around the church again, evaluating my possessions. If I never saw this place again, was there anything I couldn't replace? All the photographs and important papers were backed up (thank you, Ivy), and everything else was just…things. My eyes went to the mantel, where Mr. Fish glubbed tranquilly in his bowl.

"The plan is, grab the fish and run like hell," I said, and grinned in fond memory.

"Uhh," she said, not getting the reference, and I sighed, feeling a pang of grief. God, I missed having Jenks at my back.

"_You a_re going to take Mr. Fish and get the hell out of here," I clarified. "_I_ am going to sneak into Cormel's lair, rescue the damsel, and bring her back here. I've got a boatload of protective curses on this place, even without the sanctity. We'll hold out." _I hope._

Erika's lip curled in confusion and annoyance. "That's it? That's the dumbest plan I've ever heard! They won't let you in!"

"They will if I look like you," I said, holding up a pair of scissors. "And talk like you, and smell like you. I'll need some of your hair."

Comprehension lightened her features, though the skepticism remained. "Aren't those charms illegal?" she said.

I grinned again. "Illegal as hell. I imagine doppelganger curses are even more illegal, because they're so much more effective." I looked her over, considering. "And your motorcycle. And your cell phone."

It took a moment, but Bis figured out that me imitating Erika meant that he wasn't going to be riding shotgun beside me. "What about me?" he complained. "I'm not letting you walk into a den of undead all by yourself! The pheromones alone will sugar you senseless!"

_Gee, thanks for that stellar assessment of my fortitude, Bis_, I thought. "Not if I'm a living vampire myself! This curse will give me all of Erika's abilities, as well. It's the same curse Al used to turn into Ivy, once." Not my favorite memory, but now it was coming in useful. "I could even bite someone, if I wanted. Not that I'd want to," I added hastily, as Erika glared warningly at me.

"I'm not sure I like this idea so much," she said.

"Erika, I'm not really giving you a choice, here. This is what's going to happen. You are leaving this building with a ley line charm to make you look like Mrs. Average Housewife, and you'll take Mr. Fish with you in case things get dicey. Bis is going to make sure you find a safe place to hang until this is done."

Once again Bis reared up in protest, wings flapping with agitation. "Rachel, you can't leave me here!"

"Bis…I need you to stay in range of our line," I said. "I'm going deep underground. There's a limit to how much I can spindle. I need you." I lowered myself until I was staring into his ugly, worried face, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Bis, I'm going to need to draw on the line through you."

Bis hissed softly, but didn't protest.

"We've practiced this. You'll be all right. But I need you to stay in range. There aren't any other lines in Cincinnati that I can use. Please?"

His eyes searched my face. He'd acted as my familiar before, twice. But I might need to draw far more power through him tonight than I'd ever used before. I was asking for a lot, and I knew it. "Stay with Erika…?" he asked gruffly.

I felt guilt over my victory, but I nodded. "Just make sure she gets out of the immediate area. Then come back to the church." I hestitated before saying the last part of my half-assed plan. "You'll keep them busy. You're going to be me."

Bis blinked twice before grinning widely. "Do I get to use it? Do I get to use it?"

I laughed. "Yes, of course." With a flourish, I handed him my splat gun as if it were a royal scepter of bad-assitude. "Kick ass. Take names. But…don't get hurt. And don't let them catch you. You're just going to be charmed, not cursed, so they'll figure out the ruse right away if they touch you."

Bis's toothy grin widened. "OK. I like this plan better now," he said gruffly.

"I don't," Erika said, waving her hands in an_ I'm-surrounded-by-crazy-people_ gesture. "It's insane. It's nuts! There's no way it'll work, and even if it does, you'll still come home to a church full of angry vampires!"

"I'm sure they'll figure out they've been had sooner or later," I said, hoisting the bag over my shoulder. "Then they'll all head back to the Evil Lair - just as I'm leaving."

Erika contemplated me for a long minute. "I see why your runner business worked. Ivy did the planning, didn't she?"

"Not _all_ of it!" I protested.

"Most of it," agreed Bis.

"But the really awesome, off the wall, crazy-ass ideas came from me," I said, stung. "You know. When it's time for drastic measures? And trust me, this is a drastic-measure situation!" I headed to the mantel to grab Mr. Fish.

"If it wasn't before, it certainly will be in a few minutes," Erika said drily.

"Hey! You got any better ideas? You want to go in there and bring Ivy out yourself?"

"No," she said bluntly. "But I'd come with you if I could."

"And you'd panic and shoot someone in the balls at just the wrong time," I grumbled, then immediately felt guilty. I glanced around. Sure enough, Erika's face had crumpled and she was looking at her hands sadly. "Sorry, that came out wrong," I said, more gently. "But I've been doing stuff like this for decades, now. I really need to do this alone. I'm sure you want to help but you'll only be in the way." I picked up the fish bowl with care, but my eye was drawn to a sudden movement to the right of the bowl.

The chrysalis.

I stared hard at it, but it didn't move for a long while. Then, just when I was certain I'd only imagined it, the grey cocoon gave another little pulsating jerk.

_Now?_ The goddamned thing was hatching _now? _Geez. Talk about shitty timing!

"You picked a hell of a time to get born," I told it irritably, plucking it from its little cushion. It shuddered in my hand, definitely alive. I nearly dropped it out of revulsion. _Yuck._

"Huh?" said Erika.

"It's hatching? Seriously?" Bis asked, excited. "Finally!"

"What is it?"

"A gift from an old friend," I said, and felt the thing squirm again, warm and wriggling like a giant maggot. I shuddered. OK, maybe I was more than a little worried about what would emerge. Al had been in a rather contemplative mood when he'd made the thing and given it to me…let's see...right after I resurrected Pierce on New Year's Eve, back ? I didn't think he was still out to get me, at that point. Was he…? If it was something nasty, he'd have taken it back, right? Toward the end there we'd been pretty close, if not exactly friends in the usual sense. "Maybe I should leave it here," I said thoughtfully.

"The mystery bug from your demon teacher?" Bis snorted. "I don't want to be alone with that thing!"

I glanced at Erika, who had risen and skipped back a step. "No fucking way," she said.

I shrugged. "Looks like you're coming with me, Little Al." Irate, I jammed it into my coat's lapel pocket, after tossing out my cell phone. Whatever had been dreaming in there all these years, I was sure it was tough enough to handle being jostled and squished in my pocket for a bit. I'd spent nearly twenty years waiting for this thing to hatch from its cocoon; damned if I'd miss what came out of it _now_. Even if it happened in the middle of the action. "You'd better not be an _evil_ butterfly, or I'll feed you to Atilla." Atilla was the local alley cat, missing a leg and all the more fierce because of it.

I could swear I heard my demon teacher's chuckle in my mind. Again, I felt a pang of sorrow for the old bastard. There were definitely times I could have used his help, and this was certainly one of them.

"All right, time to get dressed," I said, tossing invoked earth magic amulets at Erika and Bis. Bis's form shimmered for a moment, and there I stood, looking lean and mean in my working leathers, red hair frizzy about my face as usual. He took a moment to move experimentally, and I was both impressed and a little alarmed at how good he was at mimicking me. "Cool," he said, in an unconvincing falsetto, and we both snickered.

"As long as you don't talk, you'll be fine," was Erika's verdict.

But she didn't know about the weird little quirks of gargoyle physiology. Bis massaged his throat a bit, and there was the slight sound of stone grinding on stone, and when he spoke again, his voice was feminine and scarily accurate. "Rachel, kicking butt without smartass comments? That'd give it away even faster," he said. He tossed the splat gun into his right hand, sighting and aiming at an invisible foe. "Go ahead, make my day," he growled.

Erika gaped openly. I smiled with pride at Bis. He was no Jenks, but he was awesome backup all the same. I no longer regretted the accidental bond that tied us, demon and gargoyle. We'd both accepted it long ago.

Erika turned, eying me nervously when I approached her and menaced her with the scissors. Then she obligingly plucked out several hairs instead. Seeing that I was satisfied with that, she glanced at her amulet doubtfully. "It's not anyone I know, is it?" she said, slipping the string holding the little wooden disk over her neck.

"No," I reassured her. "It's a bunch of combined charms that will age you a bit, change your hair and weight, and darken your complexion. Trust me, you won't even recognize yourself!"

Erika gave it one more skeptical look before tucking it under her shirt, but it worked exactly as advertised the moment it touched her skin. "And my scent?" she asked.

"Only someone who knows you would recognize it. You're supposed to be hiding out, not running around Cormel's lair, right?"

Her lip quirked, but she shrugged and went to peek in the mirror. She exclaimed with shock, then prodded her face curiously here and there to see how deep the illusion went. While she was busy with that, I broke the preservative charm on a bottle of extremely illegal potion and carefully threaded the hairs down into the neck. I heard the goo inside hissing as I stoppered the vial again and shook it vigorously. When the fizzing stopped, I gave it a good seven drops of my demon blood to kindle it, then drank it down before I could let myself remember the shit that had gone into making it.

The taste of the potion was disgusting, but then, they all were. "_A pedibus usque ad caput_," I intoned, praying that the preservative charm had held all this time and that I'd interpreted Ceri's Latin instructions correctly. I had no idea what an improperly constructed doppleganger curse might do to me. But it did exactly what it was supposed to do. I felt my bones shift, my skin slither and reshape, my hair grow and my mouth tingle as my canines lengthened a little. Erika gave another gasp as she turned from the mirror to stare at me, shocked into speechlessness.

"I never get tired of watching you do curses," Bis said, brushing an unruly red curl from his brow. "They're so cool."

_I take this,_ I said silently, as the smut from the curse began to build in my _chi_. The pressure subsided at once. "There's always a price," I replied glumly. "I just wish I knew what it really means, all the smut that comes with the curses." Though I had to admit, this curse was the bomb. I inhaled, enjoying the mingled scent of demon and vampire as it filtered through my enhanced senses. "All right, guys. You know the plan." I handed Erika a bowl containing one agitated little betta. "Please be careful with him."

Erika was staring at me as if I were the craziest thing she'd ever seen (and being a fashion designer in Paris, she'd seen crazy, crazier, and way through crazy and out the other side). One brow eked up even higher as I handed her the fish. "I thought you were kidding about the fish," she said.

I scowled. "I'm deadly serious about the fish. He's my familiar."

The other eyebrow joined the first, but then she giggled nervously as she decided I was pulling her leg. "A _fish_ familiar?"

"Shut up," I said, feeling my face flush a little. "It's not my fault that some curses absolutely require having a familiar. I wasn't about to tie some poor cat to my unlucky aura. Time to move!" I ordered, glaring at Bis before he could let out the bellow of laughter he was holding in.

The escape from the church was easy. It wasn't until I was halfway to Cormel's lair that I was struck by the one gaping flaw in my magnificent plan.


	4. Action and Reaction

_Holy cow, I had a spare 45 minutes today! It's the first since classes started up again—where I didn't have to work, entertain my kid, fix the latest thing to break in my "new" house, or pass out cold from exhaustion. Life is good! _

_Oh…and thanks to whoever pointed out that Erika's nephew would be Ivy's son. Uhh…hehehe…I meant "cousin." Or some relative, anyway. *lol*_

**Action and Reaction**

I _loved _being a vampire.

Why hadn't I ever done this before? Most of the fights Ivy and I had ever had revolved around my inability to see things from her point of view. All this time, it had never occurred to me to literally give her point of view a try. Granted, I was currently her _sister_, which was kind of icky on some vaguely incestuous level, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy the experience.

I owned the darkness, roaring through the city on my borrowed bad-ass-mobile. My senses were full of a whole host of scents and sensations, distracting and heady. The faint hint of rain in the air became stronger as I flew through the nearly empty streets of Cincinnati. Even though we Inderlanders had finally gotten the midnight curfew rescinded, most of the low-powered folks still stuck to it for their own safety. Sure, vamps still ruled the night, but weres (who now could only shift on full moon nights) and witches (who, without ley lines, were no more powerful than your average human) listened to common sense, not their internal clocks, and wisely stayed indoors. Humans had given up their nocturnal ways during the Turn.

My borrowed coat flapped like mad, and I vaguely wondered how the chrysalis was faring. I gave the pocket I'd tucked it into a gentle squeeze, and it wriggled, warm and squishy. Ew. As far as I could tell, though, the skin of the cocoon was still intact. Little Al was taking its time to get born, I though, though I could hardly hold it against the…creature? Thing?...unknown weird demon gift bug. Good grief, why had I thought it a good idea to bring the thing along, again? Surely I wasn't expecting Al's gift to be anything useful. Honestly, I expected no more than a pretty blue butterfly. With fangs, maybe. But having lost Ivy and Jenks, and been forced to leave Bis behind…it was vaguely comforting to have a tiny reminder of my bad-ass demon mentor with me, on the most important mission of my life. He'd have helped out, had he been here, if only because the problem of saving a vampire's soul intrigued him. I think.

Well, at the very least, maybe his mystery bug gift would serve as a brief distraction, while I armed myself with a broken table leg or something…

As I rode, enjoying my enhanced reflexes and increased speed, I ran through what I remembered of Cormel's lair. It had once been Piscary's, and I knew that Cormel had taken the older vamp's daytime sanctuary for himself. Ivy would definitely be down there, well-protected from the killing sunlight. Rynn would probably be there, too—I couldn't just assume he'd go to pick me up from my place himself. But I could fool him. This disguise was as foolproof as it got. Hell, the FIB could test my DNA right now, or take my fingerprints. Ford could look into my head. Even my aura would match, if anyone thought to check. Hell, the curse even replicated the recent bite marks on Erika's throat. Demons don't fuck around when they want to be somebody else, and I'd had a super fresh focusing object, freely given.

I pulled up to a stoplight, and that's when the first flaw in my brilliant plan hit me. Hard.

The woman had just moused her way across the street, darting into the shadows on the other side, and every sense I had was suddenly trained on her. She was short, pale, nondescript in just about every way. I was shifting my weight to slide off the bike before I even realized how my breath had paused, how my blood had begun to race, how my every sense was fixed on her. The nearly dull grey monotony of the night sprang into vivid color around me, though it remained grey and indistinct at the edges, and my gums tingled as a wash of delicious, anticipatory pleasure welled up my spine in a warm, sensual rush. A strange sensation, not quite pain, skimmed and blossomed at various points under my skin as my body responded to her, releasing the pheromones that would soothe and lull my prey.

She looked up, saw me staring, and froze in place.

_Weak. _

_Unclaimed._

She'd been bitten before. Her blood was free for the taking.

I saw my pheromones take effect, her face relaxing into the blissed-out expression of the entranced, for all that her eyes were still wide with terror. Need, raw and hungry, pounded through me. Rain began to patter onto my jacket and jeans, each drop a surprisingly loud little pop in my suddenly super-sensitive ears. _Run_, I willed her, feeling my inner feline wiggle its haunches in anticipation. _Run—_

The honking of the car behind me broke the spell, and my start nearly toppled the bike. _What the hell am I doing?_ The woman did run, then, and I clutched the bike with clawed hands and tight thighs until the urge to chase died down a little. It took every single ounce of my willpower, and the driver behind me gave up waiting in disgust. Whoever it was veered around my bike, and I felt the rush of air and sound and heat rock me as the car whooshed by far too quickly and way too close. Now I had to resist the implied challenge, every nerve poised to chase and strike. I leaned forward and embraced my trembling steel steed, sweating, and tried like hell to get control of the completely unfamiliar set of instincts that Jane Doe and Joe Roadrage had just set off in me.

Holy _shit._

I don't know how long I sat there in the middle of the freakin' intersection, until the kaleidoscope my dilated pupils had made of the world faded back to monotone once more. I do know that by the time I got it back together, I was soaked through from the light rain. I sped off again, not nearly as recklessly this time. My hackles were still ruffled, every nerve sensitized. Worse, I felt like the slightest trigger would tip me back into that feral state.

I no longer owned the night. I feared it owned me, instead. God, I'd never felt _anything_ like that before.

How was I going to respond to another vampire? Fucking hell, how was this vampire body going to respond to_ undead_ vamps? To Cormel? To _Ivy_? Was I more Erika than Rachel? Would my instincts treat her as a sister rather than a lover? Or would I try to jump her in her sister's shape?

_Ew. _ The thought made me cringe. But then, another thought struck me: would appearing to her as her sister make undead Ivy think twice about trying anything seductive on me? Perhaps this was the safest way to go in…but no. Ivy would see through the ruse. My aura might be a different color, temporarily, but she'd know it. She'd shared it, and shaped it…she was practically part of me. No, this disguise wouldn't protect me.

And now I knew its weakness. I had _no fucking idea_ how to handle being a living vampire.

Hell, now that I'd experienced it, I had a whole new level of respect for Ivy's restraint. If this was the kind of thing a regular vamp had to put up with on a daily basis, just how much worse had it been for Ivy…? Years of abstinence, while her best friend and love tried to work out her hangups about vamps and blood and sex, each day having to deal with our mingled scents and every other way I inadvertently triggered her instincts. Especially after that bastard Piscary had honed her into a voracious predator, until acting on instinct had become second nature.

Shit, it was a wonder I'd _survived_ those first few years. But my Ivy was one tough woman.

_And so am I, damn it! I'm a demon. I'm the last demon woman. I'm the most powerful magic-slinger on this miserable planet. Nothing is going to stop me from taking back what's mine._

I had no idea where in my body I was housing my dear one's soul, but I briefly rubbed my hand over my heart. A briefly warm sensation, like a hot flash of passion (or maybe just heartburn), rustled across my soul like wind dancing through leaves, and I felt somehow comforted.

_I swear I'll save you, Ivy. You didn't spend all those years fighting to save yourself in vain. You're mine. I'd crash my way into Hades itself to bring you back._

Somewhere, somehow, I had the distinct impression of someone rolling their eyes at my mental declaration. _Melodramatic, much?_

I sniffed, finding my way suddenly blurred with tears, and blinked furiously. _Damn right._

Still, perhaps a reevaluation of my hasty plan was in order. This _was_ the love of my life, after all.

I scowled at the obnoxious inner voice urging caution. I only had until dawn, damnit! Time was precious!

But then, I was a demon. I was effectively immortal. And I held Ivy's soul. I had time. I had all the time in the world. I blinked as the unexpected thought occurred to me: I'd watched Al give Pierce's ghost a new body, with a curse I'd made myself. Even if I couldn't anchor Ivy's soul into her original body, there was nothing preventing me from—

From what? Murdering someone else so that Ivy could live? Not happening. We loved each other, body and soul, but Ivy wouldn't forgive me if I cut short someone else's tomorrows so that she could share hers with me. Besides, her defiance and control of her body's instincts was part of what defined her. Would she even be the same person if she no longer had them? No…I'd save her, body and soul both. All or nothing.

I always did choose the hard way. But wasn't there another way to protect myself from vampiric influence? To keep my head clear and my instincts dampened?

I put on an additional burst of speed. If I tried that, tried to block the influence with a curse or something, they'd notice, wouldn't they? No, I had to be Erika, through and through. I had studied her mannerisms in the brief time we'd had, and gotten a quick rundown of the day she'd spent in Cincinnati, having arrived only this morning. She'd been cut off from her camarilla for years. I could fake being her, I knew I could.

Some part of my brain really wasn't buying that, but I had to believe it. Maybe there was a curse that could help me? One that didn't require much preparation to twist? I was suddenly struck by another memory: Al explaining the curse he used to mess with peoples' heads—the one that looked inside and found their deepest fear. Heh. It was a thought. It was better…or rather, less wrong…than most of the other ideas I was coming up with, anyway. A slight tweaking, and perhaps it could be used to pick out their general expectations of a person and fake them out into seeing exactly what they expected. Sort of a camouflage, if combined with the doppelganger curse. Combine looking the part with a general _don't-question-this_ aura, and perhaps…

_That could work_, I conceded. If I could recall the curse, anyway…

_Aaah, yes._ There it was. I grinned a savage grin as I twisted it. There were a lot of curses that no longer functioned shorthand, since most of the demon database had been lost with the ever after, but this one appeared to go off just fine. _Now if only I'd thought to question Erika's veracity—_

I blinked. Why would I be suspicious of Erika? The poor girl had been at her wit's end! And she'd warned me about Cormel's nefarious plans to nab me. I had no doubts about her sincerity, and neither had Bis—and Bis was a far better judge of character than I'd ever been.

Still, I couldn't rid myself of that nagging thought that just perhaps I'd missed something. I fought to shrug it off, because suspicion and paranoia were vampire nature and were triggering my instincts like woah. Even I could smell the pheromones I was oozing from every gland. That must be what that odd tingling sensation was. Couple it with the adrenaline pouring through me, and the shock to my confidence in this cockeyed scheme thanks to Miss Mouse's mad dash in front of me…? My hands were shaking something fierce as I slid off the bike and faced the building I loathed most in Cincinnati. Once it had been the best damned pizza place in the city, then the weirdest night club in the history of vampire-line-dancing clubs, then nondescript offices…now it was a nightclub again, but a much seeder-looking one. It catered to the living and the undead, and the few others who hadn't figured out by now the big lie of vampire allure and decided to make healthier choices. I could hear the _wubba-wubba-wubba_ of the monotonous music from here, pulsing like a giant heart in the ugly structure squatting before me.

I left Erika's bike with the others in the parking lot, though I did pause to put a swift _do-not-touch_ curse on it. I was loaded with those, thanks to the druggies who'd look for anything not nailed down. Then I put on my best _do-not-touch_ face and elbowed my way past the security, through the crowd, through the kitchen, and straight to that damned elevator .

The guards stationed to either side barely even blinked at me, and I paid them no attention whatsoever. I had a sudden urge to drag the hot blond one into the elevator with me—after all, kissing hot blonds in elevators while on the way to certain death had seemed like a good idea the _last_ time I descended into Hell, convinced I'd never come back out.

As the doors slid smoothly closed, I wasn't entirely certain that the same wasn't true right now.

At least I wasn't alone. I had Bis. I gave him a mental buzz, and he buzzed back. We couldn't talk, but we could share very simple emotions, and his buzz was mellow, with only a hint of concern. Cormel's cronies hadn't shown up yet? I shrugged, trying not to see that as a bad sign.

And I had my trusty mystery demonspawn thing in my pocket. I reached to pat my pocked again, thinking that I'd be a little disappointed if it only turned out to be a butterfly—

I frowned, patted the pocket again, then dug inside and drew out the chrysalis. The cocoon had split right down the middle, now merely a dried out husk that smelled faintly of milkweed and burnt amber. There was nothing unusual about it. It looked just like any other discarded shell, ugly and grey-brown and dead.

It was empty.

And so was my pocket.


	5. Abandoned and Bereft

_This chapter's a little short, but the second half still needs a bit of tweaking. Should be up by this weekend._**  
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**Abandoned and Bereft**

"You're kidding me. Really? _Really?_ Twenty years I've kept you and you're nothing? Nothing inside? That's it?! I can't believe I missed it. If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you!"

_Ding._

I looked up to see three confused vampires watching me. I ceased my petulant stomping on the empty chrysalis, straightened up and brushed myself off, willing my face to stay composed. It didn't work; my lips were still twisted in a snarl of annoyance. Somewhere, across the dimensions, there was a demon laughing his ass off at me, I just _knew_ it.

"Ivy," I growled. "Any change?"

"No," replied a living vampire with a nondescript face and a blank expression. The three of them looked cast from the same mold: uncreative, sturdy, professional. The Men in Black of the not-quite undead. "But Mister Cormel is waiting for you. He was very concerned when you ran off. Have you been to see Rachel Morgan?"

Taken aback, I stared at him. Had Erika set me up after all? Aw, fucking hell…well, whatever. Cormel wasn't an idiot—he'd probably had her tailed. Or simply guessed in what direction a distraught sister was headed. I forced my head back into the game. I was Erika. I went with it. "Yeah," I snapped. "She said Cormel had better wash his ass, because he's going to be kissing it goodbye when she gets here."

Not even a blink. Yup, these guys were good. "That_ does_ sound like something Morgan'd say," Goon #1 replied, only a hint of amusement in his voice. Goon #2's throat moved, using silent subvocal communication to relay a message through the earpiece he wore.

Goon #3 just watched, and I realized from his dilated pupils that he was channeling someone undead. I scowled with my best, "Whatchoo lookin' at?" glare and tried to elbow my way past him. It was like elbowing my way past a bulldozer; both painful _and_ completely ineffective. "Get away from me! I want to see my sister, before Rachel gets here and blows everything to hell."

Goon #1 and 2 looked to Goon #3, who nodded. Goon #2's throat moved again, and I cursed the recent technology that allowed goons everywhere to forgo even whispers in the name of security. This was something like the fourth time I'd encountered it, and it pissed me off every time that not even demon eavesdropping curses could listen in. I missed Jenks something fierce.

"Go ahead, he's waiting for you." The bulldozer/scion moved aside, and I stomped past, dreading the encounter with Cormel now that I knew he was, in fact, still here. Well, I'd known going in that this whole scheme wasn't going to be easy. How the hell was I going to get Ivy out of here? I had a few ideas, none of which she'd appreciate when she woke up. My favorite was the last insta-pixy curse leftover from waaaaay back when. I'd wait until Cormel's guard was down, clock him with a chair leg, cram Ivy in my pocket, and blow my way out of here. Hee hee hee.

_Absolutely insane._

_Yup, like most of my plans_, I replied to my common sense. I was beginning to suspect that perhaps it was Ivy's soul in there making snide remarks, having finally figuring out how to communicate…and that she was busy rolling her ethereal eyes at me. _Trust me_, I reassured her. Or myself. Whoever.

The goons were more or less herding me along with nips at my heels, but there was only one place Ivy was likely to be—the beautiful set of rooms that Cormel had appropriated upon Piscary's demise. The former president had redecorated a bit, swapping the Egyptian theme for a more modernized feel, but it had the unintended effect of rendering the place cultureless, sterile, and as empty as his own dead soul. Or maybe I just wasn't in a very charitable frame of mind at the moment. Not only was Cormel pissing me off, but the luxury of this place was a stark and excessive contrast to the depressed and degrading city outside. Having worked charity cases for years, and been a charity case for a time myself, I resented it on general principle.

Cormel was his usual impeccably suited self, lounging on a long white leather couch. I scowled when I saw that Lee Saladin was seated beside him, and the two were chatting like old smarmy political cronies. Just swell. I felt my vampiric senses tingle in ways I wasn't used to, coinciding with my new rush of nerves.

But Erika wouldn't know Lee, wouldn't need to do anything more than nod to Cormel. Even as I did so, my eyes skipped past the two men to settle on another long couch in the far corner.

_Ivy._

I felt my heart give a huge, painful, squelchy lurch in my chest as I restrained my urge to dash over to her and fling myself over her motionless form, searching frantically for any sign of life. I kept my pace that of a sister, not a devastated lover, but even that slow run took an eternity. Then I was on my knees, fighting for composure, holding her cold, limp hand and whispering her name.

Oh God, it was so much worse than I'd ever imagined. The last time I'd held her, she was still warm with the last of her life, her aura pressing into mine even as it faded. She'd been broken, but still my Ivy.

Now…to all my senses, demonic, vampiric, or otherwise, she was just a corpse, lying in peaceful repose. She was beautiful, she was healed, she was whole…but she was gone. Three days of grief hit me afresh and I couldn't help the sobs that burst from me, the whispered pleas to open her eyes, to wake, to look at me and know me.

But there was no answer.

_My love, my life...have I ruined everything? I stole your soul, I kept it…did I cheat you of a vital ingredient of your transformation? Is that the secret to vampire immortality? Can I fix this? What if I can't fix this?_

_Rachel, snap out of it._

My head shot up. I stared at Ivy's face, still placid, still dead. It wasn't so much the thought, which still sounded like my own mental voice. It was the mental slap-in-the-face that had accompanied it. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. _Ivy?_

But there was no response, either from the soul inside me or from the body before me.

I shook my head, bewildered. That had been _quite_ a smack, even for Ivy. Had cleared my head like a charm, though. _Ow_. But the reality of the situation was rushing back to me. Four vamps and a demon in here with Ivy and me. Have to get Ivy out of here. Have to create a distraction. Have to..have to….

I sniffed, because something was plucking at the sleeve of my senses; something wrong. Something out of place…

Burnt amber.

Demon magic.

Here? I knew it wasn't from me; that scent amulet I'd snatched was one of Mom's, masking every hint of supernatural stank from my curses. Lee? But he was across the room…

_Ivy._

Ivy smelled faintly of burnt amber.

Ivy was _cursed_.

And it wasn't _my_ curse.

Some wretch had cursed my Ivy. My Ivy, who was still, even two decades later, so gun-shy of magic that she'd rather fucking _wait out the pain_ rather than let me heal her broken bones, had been fucking cursed with demon magic.

And there was only one other demon left in the entire fucking world who could have done it.

Odd thing about demons; we're real possessive. Maybe even moreso than vamps. I saw red. I more than saw red, I felt red. Red became my entire fucking world. Some asshole had cursed my Ivy, fucking up her transformation, keeping her locked away in the shell of her body—

_Rachel!_

Again, the mental slap. I lurched and fell off balance, because this slap had fangs behind it. I snarled, lashing out at nothing, vampire instincts battling with a demonic urge to wipe every last creature in this room off the face of the earth, starting with Lee. The world was too bright, my senses too sharp and confused, and on top of it all I'd reached into the well of my stored ley line energy and was preparing a curse I'd only read about, never used. Could a vampire body even channel that much energy? What if it couldn't? I'd french-fry myself into oblivion along with Ivy's soul.

_Pull it together, Rachel._

Panting and shaking, I pushed the energy back into my _chi_, even as the pheromones I was dumping turned sour with my rage and grief. I clasped the only anchor I had, and focused on it…my Ivy's hand, and her composed, quiet face. I imagined her grey-silk voice, her rare laughter, her sardonic smile with the slip of fang, her scent, and the whispery caress of her hair brushing my neck when we made love. My Ivy, my life, my soul's companion. I had to be smart, I had to be strong, and I couldn't let these fucking instincts mess with my mind, or the two soon-to-be-very-very-_very-_sorry assholes behind me might just catch on to—

"Miss Morgan…? Are you well…? Shall I have someone fetch you a glass of something bracing? Brandy, perhaps?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, not looking at Cormel lest I smash his smarmy face in. "Give me some fucking space to…."

I blinked, and turned to glare daggers at Lee, who regarded me with a smug expression that said it all.

_Shit._


	6. Betrayed

_Have I mentioned I've never really been a fan of Rynn Cormel...? *wicked grin* And do let me know if Lee's aura isn't blue; I couldn't remember off the top of my head. I anticipate two more chapters before this story is wrapped up._

Well, _that_ hadn't taken long, had it? Lee had probably seen past the layers of curses the moment I'd walked in. How long had he been working with Cormel? How long had they been planning this? I felt my body shift onto a crouch, preparing to charge the bastard who'd cursed my lover.

"Now, Rachel, don't do anything rash. I assure you we're well-prepared for anything you have to throw at us. Come. Sit. We'll have a civilized discussion." Despite his casual words, I still felt my head starting to cloud and my heart starting to pound…and the approximately eighty thousand scars Ivy'd left on my body began to glow and tingle with promise as he turned on the undead charm. "It's so good to see you again, after all these years."

I'd had years of practice getting the undead to back off. I wasn't bound or claimed, but I was still a fucking_ demon_ inside, even if Erika's borrowed body wanted to surrender to the lie and jump his bones. "There aren't enough _fuck-you's_ in the world," I growled. "And you either knock it off with the pheromones right now, or I'll fill your fucking scent glands with skunk oil."

Cormel only raised his eyebrows a fraction. "Charming as ever, I see," he said. Yeah, I'd impressed him. _Not._ But I did feel some of the mental pressure subside. Even if he topped the gesture with a wave at the Three Stooges behind us, letting them know that the coming conversation was going to be private. The goons left the room with an air of total unconcern, and the closing door had an air of finality to it. Cormel picked up a decanter of something amber, and a tumbler full of ice. "You do look like you could use a drink, Miss Morgan. Rest assured, we have no intention of harming you or Ivy."

I ignored him, turning my glare on Lee. "What. Did. You. _Do_?" I demanded.

Lee, to his credit, didn't exactly flinch, though he did look to Cormel for guidance. "It's only a stasis curse," he said.

"And that means…? What, exactly? Is she all right?"

"Well, now, Miss Morgan," said Cormel, "I believe that question is yours to answer. Please tell me…is my colleague correct? Did you manage to capture Ivy's soul?"

"It's in there," Lee said.

Cormel, having put down the decanter, actually clapped his hands like a delighted schoolboy. "Well done, well done!"

Startled, I asked Lee, "Huh? You can see it?"

"I can see her aura, under all your gold. And the smut. Dang. Been a naughty girl, Rachel?"

Well, shit. The disguise was supposed to give me Erika's aura, too, although perhaps it wouldn't fake out another demon. Or I just did it wrong, which was more likely. I squinted at Lee's own aura, prepping a _pot-kettle-black_ remark, and was startled to find that it was the same arrogant blue it had always been. "I know you haven't exactly been an angel yourself, Lee. Who are you rubbing _your _smut off on?"

Cormel tsk'd at me in genial irritation. "Oh, come now, Rachel. Stop insulting my guest. And while you're at it, take off that ridiculous disguise. I want to hear about your plans for Ivy."

Well, he had a point; the disguise was well and truly blown. I untwisted the curse, happy to leave one set of unfamiliar instincts behind. That just left the second unfamiliar set, the demon one that was wrathful and jealous and still seriously considering using that last-resort curse Al had given me for my birthday years ago…one that would transform me into a nearly indestructible bat-winged, stone-skinned, super-fast curse-resistant monster capable of shredding even an undead vampire into little stinking chunks. Was it an ancestral demonic form, or just Al's idea of a joke? Either way. I'd never had reason or desire to use it. Until today.

I gotta say, right now? The imagined pleasure of clawing Lee and Cormel to ribbons was feeling really, _really _therapeutic.

"Is Ivy _all right_?" I demanded again, voice rising.

Lee looked to Cormel again before replying. "She's fine. Woke up the first night, asking for you."

I stared at them both, unable to decide which one I hated more. The red rage had turned white and molten. "And you _cursed_ her? Why?" I felt my fingers flex, energy crackling around and between them in little cramping sparks of pain. _Control, Rachel. Keep it together. Find out why, THEN fry the bastards._

"We couldn't have her running off! We needed you both _here_. This is an historic moment! The first undead vampire with a soul!" Cormel rocked onto his toes, then his heels, still looking like an excited schoolboy.

I held up my hands, suddenly sick. "Hang on a second, fellas. I'm still not sure I can do it."

"Of course you can. Lee will facilitate the transfer." Cormel was still grinning. "It's a momentous occasion! But of course, we can't have family and friends interfering. No, we kept our Ivy here, telling everyone there was an irregularity with her transformation. Preparing them for the worst, so to speak. Otherwise there would be a three-ring circus of the undead milling around this room, waiting to see you perform your miracle."

I was starting to feel a whisper of unease. The lack of other undead hanging around to watch over Ivy had been glaring me in the face. At least Erika's distress hadn't been faked. "All right, I'm going to be blunt. What the hell are you up to? _Preparing them for the worst?_ You _don't_ think I can do it, do you?"

"Of course you can, silly girl. Lee is…well, he's ninety percent certain it will work."

Lee did not look ninety percent certain. With Cormel's attention not fixed on him, Lee looked about twenty percent certain that anything he did would work, and about three hundred percent certain that Cormel was totally batshit. My whisper of unease became an entire chorus of anxiety. Perhaps Lee wasn't here of his own free will, after all. But no, Lee looked far too composed to be a victim of threats or blackmail. Cormel was probably just paying him a shitload of money, probably topped with dire warnings against failure. "He's certain _what_ will work, Cormel?"

Cormel took the decanter and topped off his tumbler, walking over to the couch and sitting down, completely at ease. Lee hesitated, then followed—not a puppy, exactly, but with the careful, conniving air of a man who is contemplating how far he'll stoop to get a seat on the lifeboat, certain his boat's going to crack in half and sink in the next reel.

With a last reluctant look at Ivy—who I'd have uncursed in a heartbeat, if I had any idea _how_—I followed them, though I didn't deign to sit.

Cormel had the nerve to offer me a drink again, and I smacked it from his hand. His face finally turned ugly, which was what I'd wanted. I'd had enough of this smiling bastard's polite façade. "Lee," he said, and Lee smacked me with a curse like an anvil upside the head. I staggered and fell onto the loveseat opposite Cormel, head ringing and birds twittering, and found myself too dizzy to rise.

Inside me, I had the distinct impression of someone smacking their forehead. Fair enough. I'd have done it for real, if I could've moved. But still, something kept me from the more violent response I desperately wanted to unleash on these creeps. I thought it was only common sense, at the time.

"You must understand that, while I had every hope that you and Ivy could unravel this soul dilemma, I required a backup plan," Cormel explained, sipping his drink with his pinkie extended while I tried to recover from the demonic bitchslap.

_The first thing I'll do is pop off that pinkie and jam it up his ass._

(OK, I'm still not sure to this day who was thinking that thought…it sounded more like _Jenks_ than any soul inside me at the time.)

"Lee and I have been working on the problem for several years," he continued. "During his brief stint as a demon's familiar, Lee learned a surprising amount about channeling and housing a foreign soul."

Lee shuddered, and but I couldn't find any compassion for him. After I'd rescued him from Al, and we'd rescued each other from the Coven, he'd still turned around and fucked me over in favor of helping _this_ worthless undead scumbag? Whatever. I didn't interrupt. There was no deadline, now. _Ivy had risen._ I _hadn't_ damaged her transformation by stealing her soul. _We had time._

"He also stirred the curse his demon used to transfer soul and aura from one vessel to another. His demon informed him at the time that _usually_, such a transference could only be temporary; the main issue is, of course, incompatibility."

I regarded them narrowly. "And yet Al put a ghost witch into a dead witch's body, and that's worked just fine. Pierce is still around." And he was, though Coven business kept him busy, and my relationship with Ivy kept him mostly out of my life.

"Ah, yes. A witch body and a witch soul, a perfect match. But a witch body could not house a _demon_ soul indefinitely, which was what made Lee such an attractive familiar, being a demon himself. We believe a similar incompatibility arises when a body makes the transformation into the state of undeath."

"You just lost me. An undead body can't hold a soul because it's _dead_. The whatever holds a soul, it's _gone_, Cormel. There's nothing in a dead body for it to stick to."

Cormel nodded. Lee just sat there, looking shifty and uncomfortable. "We did try several options. Lee is also familiar with the demon curse that transfers a soul to a physical, inanimate vessel, for long term storage, as is done with demon familiars. We've tried it with vampires crossing over, but we find that this curse is insufficient."

I was still lost, but despite my rage, I was a little intrigued. "Really?"

Cormel sipped his drink again. "The transition of the body into the undead state still results in the dissolution of the bottled soul, every time."

I felt a physical shock of pain, because sealing Ivy's soul in a bottle when she died her first death had always been my master plan—the problem had simply been anticipating_ when_ that would be. Which brought up the reality of what Cormel was saying. "Oh my God. You _murdered_ living vampires to test this theory, didn't you?"

"Inducted them into their second life," Cormel said, feigning hurt. "Of course they were all willing volunteers."

"Of course they were." The seething rage in my heart twisted up another notch. I'd never hated anyone this much before. "So why do I suspect that your little science fair project didn't end there?"

Cormel grinned, looking pleased. "Or course, you're quite right. Our next series of experiments were attempts to inoculate the undead with a surrogate soul."

I felt my mouth go dry. "Seriously? You mean you and Lee _stole souls from living vampires to_ _transplant into undead bodies_?" Horror temporarily overcame rage. "You did NOT have volunteers for that. No living vampire in their right mind would give up the sun for that."

Cormel shrugged. "Perhaps some were mislead as to the purpose of the experiment. Rest assured that all participants are currently enjoying their second life as favored sons and daughters."

"I'll bet. I take it these experiments didn't work, either?"

Cormel put down his glass and laced his fingers. "Sadly, no. It appears that no soul survives the transition to the undead state. A soul removed from its body can survive for an extended period of time, but after transplant, it dissipates upon the death of the donor body. Quite unnerving to witness."

"Witch and human souls, too," Lee said, voice carefully neutral. Was he just callous, or was he trying to warn me about the depth of the crazy I was stepping in here? "You're right about them having nothing to stick to."

Cormel glared at him, but the damage was done. "We only tried that once," he insisted, as if that made it all better. "The families were very well compensated."

I'll be they were. The depression as bad as it was, making someone a deal to support their family in exchange for a little thing like their immoral fucking soul wouldn't be all that difficult. I was going to throw up. What he was describing was so fucked up, _abomination_ didn't even begin to cover it. Frigid horror stole life and strength from my limbs, even as I silently worked the countercurse to Lee's spell holding me down. They had a plan that involved me and Ivy. I wasn't going to like it, which is why they'd lured me here with Ivy as hostage. I had to find out what it was. "Why is Ivy _here_? Why did you curse her?" I asked through gritted teeth, even though I suspected I already knew the answer.

"My dear girl, isn't it obvious? We had to get you here. Of course you'd never have come on your own; you know us far too well. You're a demon—the last surviving female demon. Only the women are capable of holding a soul within their own living flesh. You hold Ivy's soul. Do you not see the significance? Within your loving womb, her soul has _survived_ the death of her body."

I swallowed, suppressing a grimace. Surely I wasn't storing her_ there_; that was just icky. I'd have to remember to ask Lee, after I was done kicking their respective asses, whether Cormel was just being metaphorical. "But it might still dissipate when I try to put it back. I can't risk it, not yet. Holding Ivy's soul inside me was an accident. And yeah, I didn't want to come here—I'm not going to be some fucking vampire soul incubator, to be pimped out to the highest bidder, with Ivy hostage to my good behavior."

"Such an imagination you have," Cormel said, smiling without a hint of mirth.

"_No_. Not happening. She's safe inside me. That's where she'll stay. Wake her up. We're leaving. I won't let you force me to try reuniting her soul and body until I _know_ it'll work."

"Force you to put her precious, precious soul back into her body? I would never do such a thing, Rachel." Cormel stood up, and a wave of domination clobbered me.

I struggled against it, but he was mind-bogglingly strong, and Lee was already cooking up another curse as I tried to throw off the effects of the vampire mind mojo. I struggled to throw up a circle of protection, but their combined attack had caught me off guard. My circle fizzled a moment after it was cast, and to add insult to injury, Cormel grabbed my wrist and forced an old-fashioned zip strip over it. God _damn_! I hadn't seen one of those in years! I didn't even realize they still made them anymore, but of course Cormel had a stash lying around for special occasions. _Bis!_ I called, but I was cut off. My spindled energy was gone. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_!

I could only sit there, the bad-ass demon, undone by a vampire with an outdated plastic wristband. So fucking _humiliating_. Tears of helpless fury sprang to my eyes as I struggled, finally throwing off Cormel's domination enough to give him a good kick to the groin. I had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen and face slacken with pain, before he slammed down on top of me, pressing me into the leather couch with all his angry weight.

"Get the fuck off of me, you undead sonofabitch! What the hell are you doing?"

Cormel's icy eyes were inches from my own. His pupils had dilated, boring into me, and there was nothing in them. No compassion, no love, not even any real hope. He had no soul, only a boundless hunger for what he'd lost, and no conscience to tame it. "I find myself growing weary of this undeath, Morgan. My scions are dead. My lovers are dead. The sun beckons to me. I won't stand for that, not when salvation within my grasp."

"_Salvation_?!" My mind didn't want to accept where this was going, and tried to rebel against the realization. "Your soul is _gone_! You'll never get it back! There's nothing I can do about that!"

"Wrong," the master vampire growled, fangs bared. "You have a vampire's soul inside you, a soul that has survived the transformation. It's the one thing we haven't tried yet. If there's any chance whatsoever that it will benefit me, I want it. I want it _now_."


	7. Avenging Angel

_Thanks everyone who wrote reviews! I'll answer them soon, I promise. But I'm on a roll with the story! It's almost done! _

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**Avenging Angel**

"You're insane!" I shouted, terror blooming in my gut. "There's no way that will work! Her soul will die, just like all the others!"

Cormel's empty black eyes were inches from mine. "Then it will die. Why should she enjoy the sun, if her master cannot?" You can always find another soul for her, if this works. Lee!"

"_Another _soul!?" I gave up on reasoning with Cormel, because if he really believed what he was saying, then he was a lost cause. But I might still be able to reach Lee. "Lee…don't do this. Please. Lee, it's Ivy, my wife! You can't do this! I have a chance to save her, you can't take that away from us!"

Lee sat beside me, his face a blank mask. "Look, Rachel…it's not like I'm happy about this. I'm sorry about Ivy, but undead is undead. You can't protect her soul forever—it was always meant to end like this for her, sooner or later."

No, this couldn't be happening. "Lee! We worked together once! Whatever he's giving you, whatever he has over you—"

"It's not like that," he reassured me. "It's just business, Rachel. Look, I'm saving you both a lot of angst. You can't save an undead's soul, it's just not possible. Believe me, I'd have figured out how to do it by now. He's right, we've been working on it for years." He sighed. "In the long run, you'll thank me for getting this over with quickly."

"But she's OK! She's here! In me! I saved her, Lee! Don't do this!"

"Lee!" Cormel barked, glaring at him. "Get on with it."

"Really, Rachel. I'm sorry." Lee lightly touched my shoulder before grasping it, hard. I got out one more outraged, in coherent shriek before I felt his will invading mine, pressing in. _Rachel, don't you get it? We're the only two demons left. If we don't prove to these undead bastards once and for all that it can't be done, they'll never leave us the fuck alone. We'll never be free—they won't allow it. Do you want that?_

The worst part was, I could sort of sympathize with Lee's position, but it was a very vague thought under all the layers of panic. He wasn't wrong—after all, that was the main reason I hadn't wanted to come here in the first place! He might have our future in mind, but all I could see was that he was about to rip away the one chance I had to save the woman I loved more than life. I wouldn't sacrifice that chance, not even if it meant we spent the rest of our lives in hiding from undead desperate to live again. Even if it meant living as a prisoner, whoring myself out as some some creepy vampire-soul incubator, until I could escape. I couldn't lose Ivy!

"Damn it, Rachel," Lee complained, as I threw my will against him, blocking him. I didn't know where I was keeping Ivy, but I was damned if I'd let Lee find her. He pressed forward again, and he had a source of power somewhere—a familiar, maybe?—that I didn't have access to. I stopped struggling against Cormel's hold, focusing my attention on repelling Lee's psychic invasion. "I don't want to hurt you. You know he won't stop until he gets what he wants—"

"Go screw yourselves," I growled through gritted teeth. "You're not getting her."

Lee made another frustrated noise. "Stubborn bitch," he said, and pain blossomed in my neck.

Shit! Cormel had just _bitten_ me!

My shriek of outrage became a gasp of shock and revulsion, and my full demon fury rose up to block the wave of pleasure before it could overtake me. No! He wouldn't distract me with false pleasure while that demon bastard stole the only thing in the entire fucking world that still mattered to me! I would fight them off or die trying. Didn't I have demon strength now? I forced my will into my fingers, currently locked above my head in Cormel's merciless grip. I managed to get two of them beneath the zip strip.

_No._

My strength suddenly dwindled, fingers pulling uselessly at the little band. _What?_

_No. It will be all right._

I recoiled with every fiber of my heart and soul. Lee's aura pressed in on me from one side, Cormel's brutal attack was pressing from the other, and now I faced an attack from within, as well. _No! No no no, Ivy, I've fought so hard to save you, you can't let it end like this!_

_It will be all right. Trust me._

Cormel's attack was encroaching past my will, aided by Lee's dark magic. The scent of blood and burnt amber filled the air, and the first spasms of pleasure made me shudder. Bad enough that I would lose this battle, but to lose because I was too weak, a victim of vamp pheromones and demon magic, seething with mingled pain and pleasure? Because the companion of my heart had given up? No. _No!_ Cormel could try, but he'd never bind me to his will. I'd die first. _Do you hear me, Ivy? I'll die before I let you go. He wants a soul, he can have mine!_

_Now you're just being melodramatic. Trust. Me._

I screamed in agony as Lee finally broke through my mental defenses, rampaging through my mind like the proverbial bull, searching for Ivy. Cormel's will was pressing in on me, distracting me, keeping me from pushing Lee out again. I'd kill them for this. This was beyond cruel, it was monstrous, it was an unforgivable violation of body and soul. The worst was the lie of the pheromones—even as Lee invaded my mind, my body was writhing in helpless bliss against Cormel's onslaught. And from within, the soul I was trying so hard to protect was fighting me, too, trying desperately to get me to let go, to save me.

I felt something inside me break. I retreated, deep within my center. The world about me faded, as I sought out the inner peace I'd only found once before, way back when, when Trent had bottled my soul. I'd been wounded deeply, on a spiritual level, and I'd found my secret fortress deep inside where I baked cookies and healed. It wasn't a pleasant memory, but it was real.

A demon can create tulpas in her mind, and make them reality. I retreated to my inner fortress, shaped like my own kitchen in my old church, and brought Ivy with me. I curled over her and around her and through her, entwining myself into her soul, making us inseparable. They wanted Ivy? They'd have to yank both of us out of here. Just let them try. I'd make them work for it, the bastards.

I felt her, bewildered and lost. Familiar. My Ivy. So completely did I know her soul that I could gather every last bit and hold it, spread my essence through it, protecting her with every ounce of strength and love I had left.

I held her, even as I felt something old and huge being drawn from me, slowly, like sand leaves a sieve. My aura? My own life force? I clung to my soul's other half and closed my eyes to reality, focusing every ounce of will on winning this battle. Perhaps my body would die. But Ivy would be safe. Whatever happened, we'd be together.

The unbearable pressure of the combined mental attacks ceased abruptly, and I heard a distant startled cry of pain.

"Rachel!"

The first sensation to return was pain, oceans of pain, layering every muscle in exquisite cramping agony. I was rigid, twisted tight as a coiled spring, curled in a fetal position on the blood-spattered couch. My throat was raw inside and out, still dripping from Cormel's attack. But Cormel wasn't on me any longer, and Lee was no longer beside me. I fought to reclaim my body again, forcing painful muscles to unclench, dreading what I'd find. What the hell had happened?

Sounds of struggle, familiar voices shouting, a shriek and a sharp crack of wood on bone. I forced my eyes open, desperate to return to life so I could fight these murdering bastards. But what I saw made my heart nearly lurch to a halt. I had to clear my throat twice before it would work. "Ivy?"

Ivy was standing over me, my avenging angel, swinging something at Cormel over and over in a blind fury. Cormel was backing off, arms outstretched in a plea even as the bludgeon mangled the bones of his fingers. Lee was motionless on the floor beside the couch, a spreading pool of blood around his head. Blood was everywhere, spattering the couch, flung in droplets from Ivy's weapon as she battered the master vampire with all the fury of a really, really pissed off grizzly bear.

She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Even as I watched, she kicked Cormel's feet out from under him, and cracked the bones of his shins with two angry, brutal whacks. The last blow was a savage sledgehammer to his skull, so powerful that it snapped the thick club. Ivy didn't hesitate, but finished snapping the wood, leaving the end a jagged mess. She fell to her knees beside Cormel, reversed her grip, and raised her arm to deliver the killing blow through Cormel's heart.

But her hand paused, hung in the air. She wasn't even breathing heavily. She wasn't breathing at all. Eyes narrow, she regarded Cormel, measuring her options. Her head turned to look at me, meeting my eyes. Then she dropped the weapon, rising gracefully from her knees. She was kneeling by my side in a movement so swift that I could barely see her move, her cool hands cupping my face, tilting my chin, assessing the damage.

I could only stare at her, shivering too violently to speak. I tried to force the words to come, but only a little mew of pain emerged. I tried again. "H-how?"

Ivy tore off a piece of my shirt and pressed it to my neck, knowing that the wound would close shortly. We'd had enough experience with bloodletting over the years to know when to worry, and recently I'd experimented with some demon magic for quicker healing, to go along with the extra strength. Handy, when one lived with a vampire. Cormel's bite wasn't deep- he'd only been distracting me, not going for the kill. "I've been awake since you touched me," she said. "Playing dead, like you said."

"I—what?"

"I had no idea what's been going on, so I just decided to trust that you knew what you were doing, but…" She shrugged, then her mouth twisted into a snarl. "Then he bit you. I wasn't going to stand for that."

I grabbed her and held on, trembling like I might fly apart if I let her go. I sobbed like a child, because I wasn't entirely certain myself what had happened, or what she meant, but she was here, she was awake, and I still didn't know if I could save her or not—or even if I still held her, or if Lee had managed to pull her from me after all. He'd pulled _something_ from me, I knew, but I just didn't have enough experience to understand what. Perhaps it was my own soul?

Couldn't be. The soulless cannot weep.

Ivy held me with equal ferocity, her body cold and slightly less yielding than it had been before her transformation. Her scent had changed, richer in some ways, lesser in others, but she was still my Ivy. My eyes couldn't get enough of her. Those three days had been an eternity. My eyes fell onto the weapon she'd used, and I realized the antique end table was in several splintered pieces.

"A _chair leg_?"

And there was, that little half-smile I'd feared I might never see again, the tip of her fang peeking from under her lip. "It seemed appropriate."

I hiccupped, the giggle holding an edge of hysteria. God, how I _loved _this woman. Still, my eyes flicked to the two men she'd knocked senseless in three seconds flat. "Ivy, did you kill him?"

"Which one, Lee or Cormel? I don't think so."

I pulled back to look at her. She was undead. The undead have no conscience, no remorse, and not much in the way of mercy or restraint, either. And Cormel had tasted my blood. That she hadn't staked him without hesitation was nothing less than shocking, certainly out of character for a newborn undead. "Really?"

A flicker of confusion passed over her features. "I wanted to," she said. "But I thought you might object."

I gaped at her for a good three seconds before a scrape and a moan jerked our attention back to Cormel. The bastard was sitting up, hand to the side of his caved-in skull (which was pushing itself back into shape as we watched). His mangled jaw was very obviously broken, but he still managed a crooked, grotesque and distorted smile of triumph. It took me a moment to understand the slurred words.

My heart fell with a splash into the acid of my stomach.

_No. No, it couldn't be true!_

"It worked," he said.


	8. Not What They Seem

_Thanks again for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying this little story that turned into so much more. :)  
_

* * *

**Not What They Seem**

"No," I whispered, because it simply couldn't be true. I'd fought so hard! I'd held on to her! He couldn't have Ivy's soul!

Ivy, for her part, looked completely perplexed. She glanced at Lee, still sprawled inelegantly on his back where she'd laid him out, then back at Cormel. "Does this mean he has it?" she asked. "My soul? Odd, they only had a few seconds after Cormel bit you. I hoped I'd stopped them in time." She didn't seem all that concerned…yet.

But I was shaking again as anxiety gripped me. "Ivy, we have to get it back out of him, before—"

Cormel's body shook with laughter as vampires, living and undead, poured into the room. By this point the virus had repaired nearly all of the damage Ivy had wrought with her Chairleg of Justice. "We have cause for celebration!" he announced grandly, voice only slightly slurred now. Apparently back molars took a little more time to heal.

Whispers and general astonishment surrounded him, as vamps I recognized, and some I didn't, surged forward to help Cormel to his feet. Ivy, Lee and I were completely ignored in the chaos, as vampires touched Cormel in wonder.

Cormel's triumphant voice rose above the hubbub. "My friends, a new era begins, one of hope and salvation! No longer will we fear the s—" He paused, looking like he'd been overcome with indigestion.

A stir of consternation rustled among his audience, who collectively took a step back. One of the living vampires, Goon #3—Cormel's latest scion, I guessed—began to groan. "Not again," he said. "Shit. Not_ again_." He rushed from the room, looking ready to vomit.

"No longer will we fear the sun!" Cormel said desperately, though his eyes were wide. "No longer…no longer…"

A truly dreadful stink seeped into the room, as Cormel's skin began to redden and sizzle.

"What's happening?" Ivy asked.

I was staring at Cormel in horror. "I think it's the soul. He said they dissipate—" Full-fledged terror gripped me again, for the dozenth time that night. "Oh my god, we have to get it out of there! Ivy, if he has a soul…it's _yours_!"

"No!" Cormel cried, falling to his knees. "No! _NO!_ Have mercy, Dear Lord, _not again_!"

I lunged forward, teetering as my shaky legs threatened to spill my weight, but a hand grabbed my ankle. I looked down to see Lee, teeth gritted against the pain in his skull. He was struggling to sit up, but even in this state he could be dangerous. "Too late," he rasped.

"No!" I screamed, struggling to get my own limp body to pull itself together, to launch myself at Cormel and steal back the soul that was boiling up from under his very skin. The undead vampire was screaming in agony, twisting and flailing and clapping useless fingers against his own bubbling, blistering flesh, trying to keep in the soul that was escaping through his very pores like steam through cracks. Vampires, living and undead alike, hissed at the foul stench of burning undead vampire, which is far worse than meat, far worse than burning carrion. It was what happened to the undead when they met the sun, and it was happening to Cormel right now. Great shreds of Cormel's skin began flaking away as we watched.

"IVY!" I managed to stand, but Lee's hand was a ball and chain around my ankle, and I toppled over his prone body. "IVY! Let me go! Lee! Help me stop this!" What felt like a miniature bolt of lightning shocked through me, stealing what remained of my strength. I went limp, but even now fought to crawl toward Cormel, fueled by adrenaline and hysterics. "Ivy! _IVYYY!"_

"Too late," Lee said again. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

It was over before I could move again. Cormel's body collapsed where he stood, a smoking, stinking mass of burnt flesh.

Ivy was kneeling beside me again, watching with a sort of detached curiosity. "Did it kill him?"

After a moment of uncertainty, the blackened vampire began to twitch and move, albeit feebly. "Blood," he rasped. "Scion."

I collapsed, weeping, hitting Lee without any real strength behind my blows. Ivy gently pried me off of Lee, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. She cradled me to her chest, where no heart would ever beat again. "Shh," she soothed. "Rachel. It'll be OK."

"No," I moaned. "I did it, I _had_ you, I helped you…I _saved_ you, Ivy…they took you from me. Oh, God, I failed you—" I could no longer speak past the lump in my throat, tight and painful like the knot of guilt in my heart. I'd failed her. _ I'd failed her. All our dreams, all our hopes, everything we've worked for…_

Vampires were tending to Cormel, who was cursing furiously. They took him to the far corner of the room, to the couch where Ivy had lain in state, where there was a convenient bar stocked with water and towels. I didn't watch when they finally dragged in a struggling, reluctant Goon #3 and shoved him at Cormel, nor did I feel anything other than numb horror when Goon #3 screamed in agony and terror as the burnt thing that was his master lunged at him to feed.

Ivy heaved a sigh, bending her head to kiss my hair. I sobbed harder, clinging, nearly out of my mind with guilt and pain. "Come on," she said quietly. "Let's just leave now, while they're distracted. We have nothing they want. Lee was right, they'll leave us alone now, now that they know that even the great Rachel Morgan can't save a vampire's soul."

"Ivy." Lee's voice. We looked down to see Lee, struggling to get to his feet. "Give me a hand, love?"

"Rot in hell," she said without emotion, and turned to leave.

"Wait. You don't understand," Lee insisted. "Rachel, I have something to tell you." He tried to stand again, slipped in his own blood, and fell. Ivy hadn't killed him, but he was certainly feeling the after effects of a serious concussion.

I didn't pity him in the slightest. "Rot in hell," I agreed, and pressed my face into Ivy's shoulder, blocking him out.

"Rachel, you can't leave me here…Rachel!"

"Watch me."

"I'm sorry this didn't work out, Rachel," Ivy said, and her voice held resignation and exhaustion both. "You know I'd never blame you. We'll figure out something." Guilt and despair had kept my gaze down, but now I lifted my head to meet her empty black eyes, and I saw something that startled me beyond measure.

Tears. Ivy had tears in her eyes.

"Wait! Rachel! Look. Look at me, damn you!" There was desperation in Lee's voice now. And something more. The cadence was off, somehow. Something was very, very wrong.

_The soulless cannot weep. _

As if in a dream, I turned my head to give Lee once last glance. Lee had tried to rise and toppled onto the couch, and he held out a trembling palm toward me. What I saw in his hand made me blink and stare in shock, then begin to struggle in Ivy's arms. "Ivy, stop. Stop! Get Lee. Get him now, get him out of here. He's coming with us."

Ivy looked at me in surprise. "Are you certain?"

My heart was pounding hard and painful, but it wasn't the agony of loss that fueled it this time. It was the tiny little creature in Lee's hand. It was the tears in Ivy's eyes. It was the sudden, violent hope that had risen in me that perhaps all was not what it seemed. But if we didn't get the hell out of here, right the fuck NOW, the other vampires might realize it too, and stop us.

"Yes. I've never been more certain in my life. We're leaving together, right now. Please trust me."

"I trust you, Rachel." Ivy paused, considering. "Can you walk?" She set me on my feet and began to release my weight, and I found that my legs were trembly but mostly held. She was beside Lee in an instant, reaching down and pulling him to his feet. She returned to my side a moment later, supporting him around the waist. The three of us left in a huddle, Ivy in the middle supporting us both. Vampires watched us, but didn't stop us—after all, Ivy's family was still powerful, and Ivy-the-undead was not going to be a vampire you wanted to fuck with. Cormel would recover, and if there was any chance of things going back to somewhat normal, the vamps here weren't going to be the ones to screw it up.

But I could see it in their eyes. The dream was over. The hope that had sparked in them every time they saw Ivy and I together had died out, leaving them with nothing but resignation to their fate. Lee had been right after all—this had been their last hope, and it had just been extinguished, thanks to Cormel. They wouldn't bother us again—if the great Rachel Morgan couldn't even save the woman she loved, what hope was there for them now? If anything, their anger would be directed at Cormel, for allowing them decades of hope in the first place. And for alienating the only demon left who could cradle a vampire's soul, even temporarily, as it transitioned into undeath. Who knew? Perhaps if I could hold the soul beyond that initial transition, I could release it into the afterlife, whole and sound, instead of allowing it to dissipate upon the vampire's death, lost forever. I didn't give a damn, now. The only vampire soul that had ever mattered to me was gone.

Would Cormel go into the sun after the failure of his last, hopeless plan? Or would he be pushed? I didn't care. Good riddance.

There were still several hours until dawn. The nightclub had closed for the evening, and was quiet and dark and smelled dreadfully of smoke, beer, and blood. (No more mixed species public licenses any more—you show up to a vamp bar, you're asking for a bite.) The storm outside, however, was in full swing.

"I believe I have a car," Lee said, lifting his keyring. "Somewhere around—" He aimed around and pressed the button on the fob until one of the vehicles in the employee lot chirped and flashed. "Aaah. There it is."

"You forgot where you parked?" Ivy said, sounding bemused. "I didn't hit you_ that_ hard."

"Yes you did," he said, though he also sounded bemused rather than annoyed. "I admit, I wasn't expecting that."

"You told him to bite her. Why, exactly, are we helping him, Rachel?" Ivy said, as we all piled into Lee's beautiful luxury sedan. It even had that wonderful new car smell, clean and expensive. Oddly, Lee had gotten into the passenger seat, inviting Ivy to drive. It could have been the potential concussion she'd given him. But I didn't think it was.

"Later," I said. "I'll tell you when we get away from this godforsaken shithole." I was reluctant to stop touching Ivy, and she gave me another half-smile as I reached through the seats and took her hand, like a child. I leaned against the front seat, eyes still streaming with tears of anxiety and anticipation, not to mention the after effects of Cormel—no, I wouldn't remember that part. Not yet, not until I was home and under a blanket and had a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. "Ivy, take us home."

"Of course, love." She squeezed, and I squeezed back. "Can I drain him when we get home? I haven't had a bite to eat in three days."

_She hasn't fed since she rose? She's got to be ravenous._ And she'd wiped the blood from my face and neck so tenderly, without the slightest pang of the ferocious hunger a newborn vamp was famous for? I was about to comment, but Lee made a scoffing noise that I hadn't heard for years, and my heart began to pound again in pure shock. "I think I'd disagree with you, love. Besides, Rachel might get jealous."

The ride back home was silent, because there was just too much uncertainty inside me. I was too afraid to face what had happened, for fear that I was entirely wrong. If I was right, Ivy still had a chance. If I was wrong, then I'd failed utterly to protect the woman I loved. If I was wrong, I might lose Ivy in the morning, when she fulfilled her vow to walk into the sun. Or I might lose her when she left, unwilling to let herself destroy me by staying to feed off what was left of her life and love. Because I would let her. I knew it now, I'd let her and I would give her everything and anything she wanted. I wouldn't let her go. I didn't care if it was love, or guilt, or stubbornness, or some measure of all three.

_No, Rachel. Don't think of such dark thoughts. Remember what matters._ I focused on the two things I'd seen this awful, awful night that now meant everything in the world to me, and tried to block out any other grim musing that might kill what was left of my fighting spirit.

I remembered the tears in Ivy's eyes.

And I remembered what I'd seen in Lee's trembling palm, flexing tiny, perfect little wings.

It was a small, brilliantly blue butterfly.


	9. Metamorphosis

**Metaphorphosis**

Lee wasn't looking so well by the time we returned to our dark church. He'd turned green-pale and blood continued to soak his shirt, so much that Ivy had opened the windows despite the rain to let the car air out. I'd have to give him a curse the moment we got home, because he refused the hospital idea, and anyway I wasn't about to let him get away without answering a shitload of questions first. He'd slumped into a half-aware stupor, answering questions with nonsense, and I'd had to keep poking him awake.

Bis, still looking like me, was standing in the open foyer of the church, protected from the rain. He (me?) had my splat gun out and trained on us as we pulled up, but lowered it with a broad grin when Ivy and I got out. "Rachel, you're back!" he called happily. "And you've got Ivy! She's awake!"

"What?" Erika, back to her usual appearance, shot out of the church and sprinted for us, slamming into Ivy with a tight squealing-sister hug. "Oh my God, I thought you were dead!"

"Well, technically…" Ivy began.

"Shut UP, you!" Erika launched into a scolding tirade, as if Ivy's delayed resurrection had been entirely contrived just to cause her beloved sister a heart attack. Ivy laughed and I left the two of them to catch up, turning to help Lee out of the car. Ivy would either be fine or she wouldn't; we had time. Lee, however, needed immediate medical attention.

Bis had to help me, but between the two of us, we got the semi-conscious demon to the door. "Hol'grn'," Lee slurred, digging in his heels when we got to the entrance of the church.

"I turned it off," I said, my suspicions taking another baby step toward confirmation. "I have a curse for you. Help me get him to the kitchen, Bis."

Bis, meanwhile, hadn't turned off the questions once. "I nearly went hunting you when we got cut off. What's that bracelet on your wrist? Did Lee help you? Why's he all bloody? When did Ivy wake up? Erika wanted to go back but we were too afraid we might blow your disguise. Is Ivy OK? Did you get her soul back in her?"

"Bis, I promise I'll tell you everything, after I fix him up." I popped a cork, primed the curse with three drops of blood, and offered the small vial to Lee. Lee downed it without hesitation, invoking it with a sigh of relief. I felt him tap my ley line, felt the drop as the curse cackled over him and healed the damage. "Feeling better?"

He blinked at me, then at my identical twin Bis. "That depends. I believe I'm still seeing double." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if listening. "Nice line. Yours?"

I nodded, terrified to ask him what I really wanted to know. I wasn't sure I could handle being wrong.

"Yes, it has your rather unique perfume about it." Lee looked around the little kitchen, still rubbing his head in remembered pain. "Your woman has quite an arm on her. Well, now. I like the new place. Very homey. Though I do rather miss the old kitchen."

I took a deep breath. "Is it…is it really you?"

Lee gave me a beautiful smile. "There. I knew you were bound to figure it out sooner or later." He opened his cupped hand to reveal the butterfly, the size of a quarter and the most brilliant blue this side of Oz. As I watched, the creature fluttered toward me, landing tentatively on my outstretched fingertips.

Bis looked back and forth between us, bewildered. "What's he talking about?"

"It was _you_? In the chrysalis? All this time?" My voice was trembling with new emotion. "And you didn't_ tell_ me?"

Ivy and Erica came in, smiling, but Ivy frowned when she caught the tail end of my question. Her face grew grave with suspicion. "Rachel? What's going on with Lee?"

"It's not Lee, Ivy." I was still staring at the little blue butterfly in wonder and confusion. "Somehow…it's _Al_."

Bis hissed, hopping back a step in surprise. "Can't be. He died, like, almost twenty years ago. Didn't he?"

"There's death, and then there's _death_, young 'goyle," Lee said…or rather, Al said, because even though it was Lee's face and voice, the tenor of the words had taken on Al's familiar rhythms and British accent.

Bis never missed out on opportunities to quote obscure movies. "Ah. He was _mostly_ dead," he said sagely, and I had to smack him lightly upside the head. He could be _such_ a geek sometimes

I wasn't certain if I wanted to hit Al, or hug him, or kill him…or perhaps all three. I'd been pretty upset when all the demons had bit the dust—even if they were a bunch of perverted, sadistic brutes, they were still _my species_, and their death was sort of my fault—but Al was the only demon I had wept over. And here he was, alive and well, and apparently had been all this time! "_How?_ And why didn't you tell me?"

Al tapped my line again, running a simple brush & washup curse that left him reeking of burnt amber, but no longer rumpled and covered with blood. "What good is faking one's death if someone knows that you aren't, in fact, dead?" he asked, giving me an innocent look.

I kicked him in the shin, because I knew that was a little dig at me for the time I'd faked my own death and hid from him. "Bastard! I wouldn't have told anyone! You could have trusted me!"

Al's face grew serious. "But I _did_, my itchy witch. I entrusted you with my immortal soul. For nearly twenty years."

I fought to swallow past a lump in my throat. "You should have told me."

"No, love. If I had, Newt would have discovered it. She'd have ripped it out of your mind, destroyed it, and then destroyed you as a co-conspirator."

"He's right," Bis said. "Remember how pissed off she was? She suspected something was up, didn't she?"

I shuddered, remembering. "Yeah. I never would have dreamed you were hiding in _there_, though…when did you do it?"

"I transferred my black old soul to the chrysalis, the night of my untimely demise." He nodded to me. "You offered to look after it, after all. But the idea occurred to me years ago, on that lovely New Year's Eve when you pulled Pierce the ghost into a body for a night. I used up one of your extra curses- such a versatile, venerable old formula, that one. I planted the seed. I wasn't at all certain at the time that I would ever use it, but…what can I say, it was a rather magical night, full of excitement and wonder and hope. My old heart quite ran away with me."

I stared at him. "You are so fucking full of it, Al. And I still don't understand. When did you get out of the chrysalis? When did you take over Lee?"

He grinned at me with Lee's perfect smile. "Haven't you guessed, itchy witch?"

I thought over the events of the evening. Heartburn on the journey. The chrysalis, empty in the elevator. Lee, seeing my golden aura with smut—too much smut. Al's smut. And his golden aura, hiding within mine. "You were inside _me_! Damn it Al, that's fucking _gross_!"

Al burst into laughter. "Well done! And the rest?"

The out of character thoughts I'd had, the alternative inspirations for saving Ivy's soul. Curses I hadn't considered, that just came to me out of the blue. The mental slaps to the face. The sudden weakness. "You were talking to me. Damn it, Al,_ you_ were the one who was fighting…was fighting…" Suddenly it all made sense. "It was never Ivy talking to me. It was always _you_."

Ivy was making a _ick_ face as well. "Then you were in there with my soul as well," she said.

Al nodded, looking mischievous. "You soul is hale and hearty, and I promise I didn't mess with it." He touched a finger to his nose, winking. "Much."

Ivy grimaced at him, then looked thoughtful. "_You_ woke me. Lee cursed me, and you broke the curse," she said. "I _thought_ that mental order to stay still sounded a bit off."

"And when Lee invaded me to pull out Ivy—"

Al grinned. "He got me, instead."

Hope rekindled once more, joy beginning to well into my heart. "Does that mean I've still got her? I've still got Ivy's soul, safe inside me?"

Al gave me the equivalent of his over-the-glasses look, slightly less effectively intimidating without the glasses. "What do you think, love?"

Tears were welling in my eyes again. "So I can save her. I can save her after all?"

Al tilted his head, considering. "I admit, itchy witch…I don't know what will happen, should you try to reunite her soul with her body. But look at her. Truly _look_ at her. Ivy, how do you feel?"

Ivy regarded Al thoughtfully. "I feel…I _feel_. It's distant, but it's not at all like the undead describe being soulless. It's like emotion is being filtered, diffuse, like light through rice paper. But I felt Rachel's pain, and I felt her love, and…I return them. I still understand it. I still feel it. The undead are so paranoid, because they can't empathize with the living anymore…but I trust Rachel completely." A shadow crossed her eyes. "There's a caveat, though—once she's not at my side, I feel like I'm fading away."

The tears spilled over my eyes, and I hugged her tightly, despite my total confusion. "How is this even possible?"

Al was looking at us like we were the most interesting lab rats he'd encountered. "Her soul is still green and verdant within you, and creating its own aura. When she is in near proximity to it, it gives her the illusion of life that the undead crave—without the blood transfer."

I stared at him, then Ivy. "So…what, exactly? What should we do?"

Al rubbed his chin. "Why should you do _anything_, itchy witch? Is there a reason things cannot continue as they are?"

Ivy and I shared startled glances. "But she can't stay attached to my hip forever," I insisted.

"Why not? To be honest, Rachel, I don't know if her undead shell will ever be able to sustain a soul. But _your _body certainly can. However, should you wish to pursue this line of inquiry, I will give you my assistance, freely. You might experiment with a scion bond, for example, or you might have a go at making Ivy your familiar, to deepen your connection. I would suggest that you keep the knowledge a secret, however. And…" Al grinned again. "If I were you, I'd avoid pregnancy. It might have…unforeseen consequences."

Ivy and I shared a glance. Not likely, was it? That glance turned into a lingering look, and a smile, and then a tender embrace filled with relief, hope, love, and joy. It wasn't the solution we'd envisioned, it wasn't ideal…but it would work, for now. Ivy would be different, but we could work with that. And the undead need never know that her soul did live on, within the heart of her demon. They'd never guess I was anything more than Ivy's living scion, giving her fleeting sips of life along with my blood.

Bis and Erika demanded more of an explanation at this point, and we recounted the events as best we could. But when we got to the part where Cormel's schemes went up in smoke, literally, Erika held up her hand. "So I don't get it. You say this is your demon teacher? The one who died? He's back from the grave and has been hiding in that cocoon you took with you? Then he got into Lee? Okay, but…if Ivy's soul is still in _here_," Erika thunked my shoulder, "and Lee pulled _Al's_ soul out of _you_, then…whose soul was it that fried Cormel? His?"

We turned to Al, who looked back at us with raised eyebrows. "Lee's," I guessed.

"Well, I was hardly going to the undead cretin _mine_," Al said. "Not after all the effort that went into preserving it. Much as I enjoy playing the part of the hero, itchy witch, I'm not about to sacrifice myself for love any time soon."

"So you gave him _Lee's_ soul?" Erika looked shocked. "Rachel, your demon stole someone's body? Aren't you going to do something about it?"

Al regarded me steadily, waiting for me to condemn his actions. Well, he'd be waiting for a long time. I pitied Lee, especially because his soul had been destroyed as completely as any vamp's, but he'd made the choice to screw me over to save his own neck. _Again._ Surely he should have learned his lesson the first time?

"No," I said. "In fact… I'd have fought to the death to keep Ivy safe. Al might have saved both of our lives."

Al _tsk'd_, though I thought I saw a flicker of relief flit over his borrowed face_._ "Oh, I wouldn't go _that_ far, itchy witch. Ivy no longer has a life to save, after all. And I'm certain you'd have caused quite enough chaos to stop them quite effectively, had I not intervened to clamp down those vampire instincts and that demon strength. The question is, would you have been able to live with yourself?"

No, he was right. Twice I'd nearly flown into a murderous rage, and twice something—some_one_—had brought me down. No, three times. Had I managed to get that bracelet off…I wasn't certain I'd have let them live. Not after what they'd done to me. Not after what they wanted to do to my Ivy.

I'd have killed them. Al was right, I'd have crossed the one line I'd never crossed, in the name of love, and I wouldn't have found that easy to live with. Al had found another solution. And now, thanks to Al, we'd never be troubled by the undead again. I found my eyes welling with tears again, for the seventeenth time that night. "Al…I…it's good to see you again." I reached out, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Hug him? Shake his hand? Touch him to see if he were really here, really alive again?

Al solved the problem by throwing up his hands, as if warding off cooties, the fussy gesture breaking the serious mood. "Good grief, don't get all mushy on me. It was bad enough having to watch the two of you playing kissy-face all these years, and never being invited to join in."

My warm fuzzies evaporated. "What do you mean, _watching_?" I demanded, reddening as I recalled just how many times Ivy and I had…er…been intimate in the same room as that bloody cocoon.

Ivy, on the other hand, laughed. "Shut up and deal with it, old man," she said, and then I was in her arms, her lips on mine, her scent filling my senses. And I decided I had all the sunlight I'd ever need, right here in her embrace.


	10. Epilogue

_Here it is, the last chapter! Thanks for reviewing, I promise I'll get back to your comments soon._

**Epilogue: Sunrise**

Ivy was safely ensconced in my workroom, which was apparently going to be our new bedroom. In all our planning, we hadn't really given much thought to the logistics of living…so to speak…with an undead vampire in the church. Ivy's undead flesh would still sear in the sunlight, which meant that my life was about to become mostly nocturnal. That was fine by me. I'd join her shortly. She'd forgive me if I stayed out to watch the sunrise.

I still had questions for my old demon teacher, who had decided that he'd keep Lee's appearance for the time being. I wanted to be outraged, but Lee, however noble his intentions might have been, had gone too far, hurt me too deeply. I couldn't find it in my heart to mourn his passing.

Al was sitting on the front steps, a cup of Earl Grey in his hands, the slight tapping of his foot the only sign of his agitation. He turned as I sat beside him. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not." His voice was quiet, pensive. "It's my first sunrise in eight thousand, three hundred seventy two years and sixteen days. Not that I've been counting." His eyes rose to the lightening sky, where above the trees, behind the trashed grocery store, we'd have a prefect view of the sunrise. "I can think of no other being I'd rather share this moment with."

I felt my face flush, and for a long moment I had nothing to say. Then I wondered if he were simply flattering me so I wouldn't ask the hard questions, and I smiled. "Al…you could have come out of that chrysalis at any time, couldn't you?"

His face twisted into annoyance. "Not after you moved the bloody thing onto holy ground," he complained. "I hadn't anticipated you'd make it a bloody shrine to my memory. Such a _woman_ you are, all sap and sentiment."

I burst out laughing. "So _that's_ why you hatched now? Because I finally took the holy ground spell off?" For some reason this was hysterical news. "Aww, poor Al!"

He scowled, but his tight lips were hiding a grin. "I suppose I could have moved things along, but…I was quite content in there. No idiot summoners, no catering to the whims of my colleagues, no more worries about surviving the coming apocalypse…"

"Free entertainment," I said drily, and Al huffed out a laugh.

"Indeed. You are a walking catastrophe, itchy witch. It was quite a relief not to be embroiled in each new disaster you brought upon yourself." He regarded me with a sideways glance. "I'm quite impressed with how you've handled yourself, all these years," he added.

I blushed again at the unexpected compliment. "But we lived in the old place for years after your fake death. You weren't on holy ground then. Why didn't you come out sooner?"

Al suddenly found something remarkably interesting about his teacup and didn't respond.

"You were always planning on stealing _my_ body, weren't you?" I asked, trying to keep the accusation from my voice. It only made sense. It was an Al thing to do.

"You're quite right, of course." His voice was matter-of-fact.

"So why didn't you? Why didn't you come out of there right after the ever after had collapsed and you'd be safe from the others, and I had no magic to defend myself?"

"Ah. Yes. Well." He cleared his throat. "I found I no longer had the heart for it, not…not after you'd found your happily ever after. Give you a few short years, I thought. I'm a patient demon. Wait until you were older and bitter and tired of life…" He took a long sip of his tea, still avoiding my eyes. "_Then,_ I'd swoop in and you'd never know what hit you."

No he wouldn't have. Not after he'd just said that he'd found peace in his sanctuary, in our church, in our home, with our family, for all these years. "Al…that's bullshit."

He finally looked at me. "Rachel, I'm an ancient, jaded, lonely old bastard who stamped out any compassion or pity long ago. And I saw you, when I died. Of all the beings that have lived on this godforsaken earth, in all the millennia…none mourned our passing, not one. Save you. You wept for me. I knew then that for all my depravity, all my vileness, I couldn't take your life from you, not when you've barely begun to live, to grow into your power." He touched my face, eyes shining. "Such a demoness you will become, Rachel. Such a light must not be extinguished. I would see our race rekindled to its former glory, through you."

I sniffed, and realized that Al had brought me to tears. "Damnit, Al, stop making me cry."

He humphed, feigning hurt. "I though I'd just established that _not_ making you cry is what motivated my extended stay on your mantelpiece," he said. "But if you wish for me to insert an uncomfortable innuendo…there are of course _other_ ways we might rekindle our race, you and I."

"Ew! _Al!_"

"Well, the elves are in hiding, so new little demons have to come from somewhere," he said, scooting closer with a lascivious onceover. "How about it, love? Care to do your duty and repopulate the species?"

"Okay, I admit I liked you better thirty seconds ago," I complained, and he backed off, chuckling. We looked to see that the sky had lightened considerably. Al sipped his tea again. "What will you do now?"

Al looked thoughtful. "Well, there's not much call for my former occupation any longer, is there? I will probably be Lee for awhile, before arranging the transfer of his assets to the mysterious, handsome nephew who appears out of the blue."

"And then…?"

Al looked a little lost. "I admit, I'm not entirely certain. The world has little use for a relic like me."

"You, ah, have a chance for a new beginning, you know."

He hummed, nodding his head, as if the big bad demon was actually considering my suggestion. "Perhaps I shall open a charm shop. Or…" He waved a hand vaguely, "Run around doing good deeds, or something. Do you perhaps need a sidekick?" he asked, and under the sarcasm was a real note of curiosity.

"Well, maybe not a _sidekick_, but…every superhero needs a wise old mentor, you know?"

"My Alfred to your Batman?" This time it was a real smile. "If you wish. Though I will need time to adjust to the changes in magic, of course." He gave me another sidelong glance. "This presupposes you will bother to actually _listen_ to my advice, mind you."

"I always did—if it was good advice," I insisted.

We sat in companionable silence for awhile, and the sun slowly crept over the ridge. Al's eyes watched the encroaching patch of light with avid wonder, and when the rays finally struck our faces and made us squint, he let out a long, only slightly unsteady sigh of pleasure. Then he held up a hand, shading his face. "Damn. That's bright. Bloody _sun_."

I laughed again as he stood, offering me a hand up. I took it, still marveling at the…well, I couldn't call it a _miracle_, exactly, but the twists of fortune that had led to him being here with me again. I'd missed him, cranky old bastard that he was.

"I'll be going now. Ivy will want you with her, I'm certain." Al fished in Lee's pocket, pulling out a set of expensive designer sunglasses, and donned them. "Now, Rachel, I must insist that we're even. No calling in favors, or trying to access whatever soft spot you imagine I might have for you—"

"Al!" I chided him, and he paused. "You're still thinking like a demon. I kept you safe when you needed it most. You kept me safe when I needed it most. That makes us _friends_."

I couldn't tell what he was thinking, behind those silvered lenses, but he did incline his head. "Rachel," he said quietly, his voice urgent. "It takes a certain fortitude to survive immortality. Nothing lasts forever. Seize the day. Love your Ivy and live. And when it ends, as everything inevitably does, know that I will be here. I will always be here."

Al leaned forward and kissed me slowly, deliberately, on the forehead. I felt my eyes prickling with tears again. Damn it.

"I know," I told him.

He tipped an imaginary hat at me. I watched him as he wandered slowly back to his car, with the air of an elderly British gentleman for all that he still looked like a modern man in his twenties. I chuckled as he swore at the mess that he'd left the interior, and the fussy way he cursed it clean once more. I watched him drive away, a little uncertainly, and hoped he wouldn't wreck the luxury car, his first time behind the wheel.

Then I went inside again, back to Ivy, the sunlight warm and bright in my eyes once more.


End file.
